My Own Mr Knightley
by non-damsel
Summary: A modernized version of Emma. Takes place in college. Becka has a problem with always trying to run everyone else's life... please R&R. It's funny, I promise. COMPLETE. WHOOHOO.
1. Prolouge

My Own Mr. Knightly  
  
If you've read Emma, or at least seen the movie, you know how it is. Mr. Knightly spends half of his time reprimanding Emma, downright scolding her at one point. It plays out well in the book, like Mr. Knightly's the good guy anyway—he's so damn solicitous otherwise, and besides, Emma usually deserves what she gets. She's always doing these silly or stupid things, like trying to hook up her completely incompatible friends or falling for a shading character with obvious ulterior motives. Still, if I were Emma, I probably would've clouted that Knightly a time or two.  
  
- - - - - -  
  
Christian has known me since before I had breasts, and apparently thinks that with such a long acquaintance comes certain liberties—like letting me know when he disapproves of whatever I'm doing. Lately he's gotten into this bad habit of telling me off when he thinks I'm being ridiculous, and acting like he's doing me the favor. And I'm thinking: this has got to stop.  
  
I'm already near boiling point when I college on Monday, driving dangerously fast and almost flattening two cats on the drive home. But I make it home without killing myself or anything else, and stomp into the apartment, slamming the door behind me. Today was not a good day.  
  
Usually when I'm this pissed off I do something brilliant like eat my weight in cheese curls or see if I can hit the wall with my fist hard enough to break either the wall or my arm. Today, however, I'd like to channel my aggression into a more constructive venue. I hear some people exercise to let off steam. I call Christian.  
  
I ask him if he'll go jogging with me and he answers flatly, "No."  
  
"But how am I supposed to get in shape if I don't go jogging?" I ask.  
  
"I suppose there is no way," he says dryly. "Anyway, it's not like I'm stopping you from jogging or anything. Go to it."  
  
"But how am I supposed to go jogging if my best friend won't come with me?"  
  
Best friend. That's a new one. We're both silent on our respective ends of the telephone line wondering where I pulled that best-friend thing from. People will say some pretty twisted things to get what they want.  
  
"Okay," Christian answers, after our moment of bewildered silence. "I guess I'm in."  
  
"Good."  
  
We meet by the bridge in Trexlers. "Why are we jogging again?" Christian grumbles.  
  
Because Elton walked into the café today with Jennifer Hanson around his neck and in chemistry Luke Emerson spilled some sort of green chemical substance on my Abercrombie khakis that I'm not sure will come out and my dad called this morning to let me know he's moving in with his bimbo girlfriend.  
  
I say, "So I can get hot and skinny."  
  
"Hot and skinny, huh?" he grunts. I notice a little censure in his tone, and if I were in feeling any less self-interested right now I would probably try to steer the conversation in a different direction. But today I am in no mood to be planning dialogue around Christian's temper.  
  
"Sure, hot and skinny. How else am I going to attract Adam Levin and marry him?" I say jokingly.  
  
"Adam Levine?"  
  
"Yeah. Lead singer of Maroon 5, sexiest man alive."  
  
"Oh. I thought you were going in the John Mayer direction." Christian is sounding a little condescending, but I'm trying to ignore this. I don't want a battle today. I don't even want a serious conversation.  
  
"Well, you know. Adam Levine, John Mayer—it's a tough choice."  
  
Christian snorts—not laughs, actually snorts. "So that's the life plan? Get skinny, marry a hot guy?"  
  
"Pretty much. Oh, and write my award-winning, best-selling novel."  
  
We are jogging past Texico. The sky has been overcast all morning, and it is just now starting to rain. Big, heavy drops that roll down my face and soak into my clothes. Soon my hair will be soggy and clinging to my head, and my mascara will be running.  
  
"You know, Becka, sometimes the things you say make you seem a little shallow," Christian accuses.  
  
Well, don't mince words Christian. See, now this is what I'm talking about when I say he's gotten into this bad habit. Who the hell does he think he is?  
  
I come to a standstill. "Who the hell do you think you are?"  
  
Christian stops, startled, and turns around to face me. "What?"  
  
"Who. The hell. Do you think. You are?" I repeat, slowly this time, emphasizing every other word. The rain is pounded down on us now. Christian takes a step closer to be heard above the storm.  
  
"Christian Lewis. Age 21. Height 6'1''."  
  
Cocky bastard. He's a little bewildered, but still so annoyingly self- assured. I'd like to have him quartered, or his eyes gouged out, or made to suffer some other form of medieval torture. I say, "I am so tired of having you always on my back telling me what I'm doing wrong like you're superman or God or something. It's like I've got my own fricking Mr. Knightly." I'm speaking very evenly and deliberately, making sure that he catches every word I say. "I have had about the worst day of my life today, and the last thing that I need is you coming off all high and mighty and treating me like I'm crap. So seriously, Christian if you really think I'm such a horrible person whatever, that's fine. But just leave me alone."  
  
Thunder. And Lighting. Isn't there some rule about counting the time in between them and that's how far away the storm is? In that case it's pretty close. Maybe we'll both get struck by lightning standing here. Right now I'm thinking that might be cool—a very climactic close to our lives, at any rate.  
  
I don't have anything else to say, and Christian doesn't seem to have anything to say at all. He's just standing there with his mouth open, either in shock or absolute hatred. I turn sharply on my heels and begin walking away, pulling my dripping jacket closer around me in an attempt to generate a little heat.  
  
Christian catches up with me three minutes down the road, jogging after me and shouting "Hey, Becka!" He slows to a walk when he reaches me and hands me his water-resistant backpacking jacket—a peace offering. I take the jacket.  
  
"Sorry," Christian says, and offers no other explanation or excuse.  
  
I shrug. "It's okay."  
  
We walk back along the road in silence—somehow the rain makes talking seem gratuitous anyway. When we reach our cars I think about giving Christian his jacket back, but I decide not to, for now. I climb into my car, and drive home.  
  
Christian and I will be friends for a very long time. 


	2. How Things Work

A/N: I decided to do something a little different with this than I thought I was going to in the first place, so I'm turning it into a sort-of updating Emma (although I may take some liberties and stray from the plot a little now and then). So anways, I changed something in the first chapter that would have otherwise have been inconsistencies (for instance, they're in college now so Christian is 21 instead of 18, and I changed the main character's name from Katie to Becka).  
  
Ch. I  
  
Platonic adj. (as in platonic love) an intimate relationship between a  
man and women that is that is characterized by a lack of sexual  
involvement.  
  
It's also the best word to use when you're breaking up with someone and you want to let them down easy, I've learned. As in, "You know I still love you, Becka, but it's more of a platonic love."  
  
In other words, "Sorry, babe, but I've lost interest."  
  
This is the kind of line Elton threw me when we broke up. (Not the sorry-babe thing. I mean that platonic love crap). That was a month and seventeen days ago.  
  
- - - - - - -  
  
I share an apartment with my cousin Jeremy Conrad. We're good friends, and share the space quite capably, usually staying out of each other's way. Now if we could only learn to stay out of each other's lives.  
  
A week after the rain-jogging-Christian episode we're sitting in our little living room, Jeremy and I, arguing over whether I'm really over Elton or not. Of course I say I am, but he brings up the point that I did flip out when I saw him in the cafe with Jennifer, which must mean something. But I don't think it needs to mean I'm still sitting here pining over him or anything. I mean, everyone has their moment of weakness.  
  
Gradually the conversation shifts off of me and onto Taylor, my real best friend—despite my comment to Christian last week on this subject. Today she started dating West Hamilton. I think it's great. Jeremy has other ideas.  
  
Jeremy's ideas on dating and couple-dum (as he calls it) in general are way off base from what most normally-functional people think. He claims dating is pointless, fruitless, and unfulfilling, seriously disruptive to one's social circle, and leading to nothing more than broken hearts and fatherless babies. Though I have tried to explain, using very small words, that dating does sometimes lead to marriage. Either Jeremy will spend his life in monk-like solitude, or he will eventually hook up with some girl and be forced to eat his words. Either, I think, would be appropriate punishment for making us all listen to his diatribes on the subject for so long.  
  
Actually, I myself have converted to single-dum, after the whole Elton disaster. Not that I go as far as Jeremy to say that no one should date. I just figure dating is not the right thing for me. After all, I've got daddy's money, I've got influence with my friends, I'm in the in- crowd (I am the in-crowd, for heaven's sake). Who needs a boyfriend when they've got all that?  
  
Now in Taylor's case, I think the boyfriend route is definitely the way to go. She's so sweet and maternal—she'd make the perfect 1950's housewife. And West is a great guy. So it really is good for her.  
  
Jeremy and I are arguing about the Taylor-West business when Christian shows up. He must have been eavesdropping outside of the living room before walking in because the first thing he says is, "So Taylor and West hooked up, huh?"  
  
"Yep," I beam. Jeremy scowls.  
  
Christian laughs. "So which one of you cried the most when you heard about it?" he asks.  
  
Jeremy and I both point at each other and say simultaneously "She/he did."  
  
Christian shakes his head and walks over to the love seat where I am, sitting down on the seat beside me. I stiffen, still a little mad from the rain-jogging incident. "So how you holding up, Jeremy?" Christian says to my cousin. "All of these people converting to couple-dum and all?"  
  
"It's awful," Jeremy grunts. "I just don't understand how you people can't see what you're getting yourselves into."  
  
"Oh, I see it," Christian says solemnly.  
  
I hit Christian and say, "Don't encourage him."  
  
"Hey, so what do you think about your Taylor getting herself a boyfriend?" Christian asks me. "Because you know this means she's going to be spending less time with you."  
  
"What do you mean?" I ask.  
  
"Well, she's got to spend time with her boyfriend now. You know that's the way it goes."  
  
Actually I hadn't thought about that yet, but now that Christian mentions it, he's right. Of course Taylor will be spending more time with West now, which means less Taylor-Becka time. That kind of sucks. But I don't want Christian to know he's hit a nerve so I say, "Well, off course Taylor would get tired of me eventually, you know, me being the horrible shallow person that I am."  
  
Oh no, I'm not bitter.  
  
Christian stares at me in disbelief. "Oh come on, Becka. Please don't tell me you still have that chip on your shoulder," he groans.  
  
"You called me shallow, Christian! Sorry if I'm a little mad," I snap.  
  
"I apologized. And anyway, I didn't say you were shallow. I said sometimes you come off at shallow."  
  
"Okay, so I'm just going to sit here and pretend like I don't exist," says Jeremy, but Christian and I ignore him and keep going.  
  
"Excuse me if I don't see the difference," I say, in response to Christian's clarification.  
  
"There's a huge difference. If you were just shallow there'd be nothing you could do about it. But see, you just seem a little shallow sometimes, when you say things about yourself like I-just-wanna-be-pencil- thin-and-marry-someone-hot. That's something you can work on."  
  
"Yeah, well you know, you never say anything about yourself at all so sorry if I'm not bearing my soul to you," I scowl.  
  
"Right. So I'm going to like, go now," Jeremy says, rising from his chair and fleeing from the room before Christian and I start tearing each other's hair out or something like that.  
  
After he's gone Christian and I stare at each other, frowning fiercely, for a few moments. I look away first, crossing my arms and turning my whole body so that I'm not facing him. We sit like this for something like five minutes. Then Christian sighs and says, "Look, I'm sorry Becka. I don't mean to be so hard on you, but it's like, you're already great. Sometimes I just see some ways you could make yourself better, and if you did, then you'd be pretty close to perfect."  
  
Who can reject an apology like that? I turn back around and give him a smile. "It's alright." I say. "Just try not to lay it on so thick next time. A girl can only take so much reproach."  
  
Christian laughs. "Alright. Now what were we talking about before World War III happened?"  
  
"Taylor and West. You know what the best part about it is?" I ask.  
  
"No," Christian answers dryly.  
  
"I made the match myself," I answer smugly.  
  
"Oh, please! You made a lucky guess."  
  
"So?" I ask, frowning. "What's so bad about that? Besides, if I hadn't have encouraged where encouragement was needed, they might have never gotten together."  
  
"STOP ENCOURAGING!" Jeremy shouts from his room, where he's obviously been eavesdropping.  
  
Christian looks at me, and we both roll our eyes. 


	3. I Meet Jen

My favorite part of the school year—other than those rare moment of ecstasy when I end but sitting beside Heath Ledger look-a-likes in World Literature—is the beginning of it. You know, before things settle into their general stagnancy. A week after classes started, everything is still fresh, but I've got a pretty good feel for the way things are working out:  
  
Chemistry is going to be hell. I'm not sure exactly why I, an English major, am in this class, except that I needed a science credit and my advisor said it would "stretch my horizons." Personally, I think my horizons are large enough, and would've opted for something like Physics for Poets (this is actually a class) or Earth Science or something. Another unfortunately circumstance is that I ended up lab partners with this Luke Emerson character, who is the most nervous person I've ever met and dresses like a farmer. Seems smart though, so maybe he'll pass the class for both of us.  
  
On the flip side, Creative Writing looks like it's going to be just up my ally. No hot guys in the class as of yet, but there's always hope for a transfer student.  
  
Sorry, I'm trying to work on that coming-off-as-shallow thing. Sometimes these things just slip out of me and I can't seem to stop them.  
  
Creative Writing is on Wednesday mornings at nine. Today Dr. Heleska starts class by giving "prompters," as she calls them. Prompter are apparently extremely cliché lines that all begin with "You are like" and are supposed to inspire poetry.  
  
"You are like a post-it note."  
  
"You are like a cloud."  
  
"You are like a diary."  
  
Our assignment is to choose one of these prompters and write a spur- of-the-moment poem. We all begin scribbling crossly in our notebooks. I'm not having much luck with any of these prompters. Hopefully no one else is either. Dr. Heleska begins going around the room, making us read our poems out loud.  
  
"You are like a star. You are beautiful and brilliant and out of my reach." The whole class suppresses a gag reflex—that was the worst poem I've ever heard. I look up to see who wrote it, and my eyes land on a meek- looking redhead. She's nervously twisting a strand of her short, curly hair around her finger and glancing hesitantly around the room. When she looks at me I smile, and she smiles back, looking relieved. Nice girl, probably. Just can't write.  
  
Most of the spur-of-the-moment poems, however, are not so much better than hers. Finally it's my turn and I get ready to read my slightly-above- average composition, but a voice behind me cuts me off before I've started.  
  
"You are like a silver spoon." Oh God. Why is he in this class? "Sleek, polished," Elton slips into the seat behind me, and leans in close. "And definitely high maintenance," he finishes, saying this last line more to the back of my neck then to the classroom. Everyone laughs at Elton's performance, except for Dr. Heleska who says dryling, "You're late, Elton."  
  
"And I assure you it won't ever happen again," Elton replies, lounging back in his chair so he is again a reasonable distance from me.  
  
Why oh why is Elton in Creative Writing? What have I done to deserve this? It must be some cruel form of punishment God is inflicting on me—maybe he's been talking to Christian too much lately.  
  
The key to maintaining a healthy level of confidence in situations such as this is to act like nothing is bothering you at all. I am very carefully making sure to show no visible signs that Elton as effected me. Suddenly, I'm actually inspired and I say, "You are like a tree—just a fire hazard, and definitely not worth recycling."  
  
The class laughs at my performance, too. "Good comeback," Elton whispers to my neck again.  
  
"I wrote it before you got here," I lie, wishing he'd maintain a distance from my body. Elton laughs like he doesn't believe me, but then I wouldn't believe me either if I were him,  
  
Later in class we par off to do some poetry workshop. Elton is leaning on the back of chair like he's already got dibs, but I purposely stand and walk to the other side of the room where the redhead girl is sitting.  
  
What is wrong with Elton anyway? He's acting like we never broke up—or even dated—in the first place.  
  
"Hi," I say to the redhead. "I'm Becka. Need a partner?"  
  
"Yes," she says, breaking into a smile that's really quite pretty. With a little make up and some decent clothes, this girl could look pretty damn good. "My name's Jennifer...Jen," she adds after a moment as if she's not sure which I should call her, so she's leaving it up to me to decide.  
  
Jen, at first, is very quiet and timid, but by the end of class I've got her talking. She's nice, and pretty funny in this Bridget-Jones-sort-of- ridiculous way. Although sometimes I feel like I'm laughing at her rather than with her, which makes me feel a little guilty, but not guilty enough to stop laughing.  
  
She not from the same side of the tracks as me—went to public high school where as Elton and Christian and Taylor and me are all prep school kids. She's basically relying on loans and grants and some distantly- related uncle to pay for her college, too. Daddy's paying for mine.  
  
I could really do this girl a favor. What someone like Jen needs is the right people (right people meaning me) to help her ease her way into the in-crowd. Someone to take her shopping, buy her make-up, teach her how to write good poetry. I'd love to help her out. It would be like a mission or an experiment or something.  
  
By the time class is over, she's agreed to come to a party with me on Saturday night. We're going shopping first, off course. She's going to look good when I introduce her into society. 


	4. Elton Is My Crown of Thorns

After I've dressed Jen up and done her hair and makeup as if she were my own My-Size Barbie, we are ready to go. On the way to the party, she seems nervous, though I try to reassure her. It's only a party. Not a big deal. No one will even notice her if she doesn't want them too.  
  
When we reach the party, I notice a red Jaguar parked outside. Elton's car. Damn it, what is he stalking me or something?  
  
I park him in and smile smugly. Good job, Becka. Way to be juvenile. Were Christian here, he'd probably be scolding me about my adolescent behavior. But fortunately he's not here, and I think I'm funny, anyway.  
  
"Alright Jen, you ready?" I ask my passenger, flashing her a encouraging smile. She nods, and we climb out the car and head inside.  
  
The party has arrived. I give the room a once over to see what kind of people we've got here. In the corner I spot West and Taylor, but they are unfortunately talking to my arch-nemesis Elton. "Come on," I say, dragging Jen off in another direction before any of them notices me.  
  
I head us towards the drinks, but before we get there we're intercepted by Natalie Banks, who squeals above the blasting dance music, "Becka! Ohmygosh, isn't this like the best party ever?! I mean, aren't you having like soooooo much fun? Ohmygosh!" She'll go on like this for another fifteen minutes, twenty minutes probably if I try to interrupt, so I just shut and listen. I grew up with Natalie—I've known her about as long as I've known Christian. She's really completely ridiculous and a little annoying sometimes the way she goes on for hours about nothing, but she's harmless and good at bottom. Christian and I let her hang out with us, and the rest of our friends are nice to her because we are. Finally Natalie runs out of things to say, and after catching her breath she says, "Oh, I see Taylor over there. I'm going to go say hi." And she leaves Jen and I to ourselves again.  
  
We head over to the drinks, where I grab one, and then make our way back to where people are dancing and stand watching them.  
  
"Hello ladies," says a voice from behind me.  
  
"Elton," I acknowledge him dryly without turning around. Jen, however, does not follow my lead and turns to face him, probably even encouraging him with a smile or something.  
  
"Who's your friend?" he asks me, forcing me to face him and give an answer. "Elton, this is Jen. Jen, this is...' glancing from one to the other I trail off and finish, "well, you know."  
  
"Hi, Jen," Elton says to her. "Hey, You're in Creative Writing aren't you?"  
  
"Yeah," Jen answers, so pleased he remembered her that she's smiling all the way across her face.  
  
Elton nods. "Yeah, I remember you." There's a moment of silence. Well, not silence exactly with "It's Getting Hot in Here" blaring in the background. Relative silence.  
  
"Wanna dance?" Elton suddenly asks Jen. At least I assume he's asking Jen, though it's hard to tell with him glancing at me every five seconds to gage my reaction. Jen is obviously excited at the prospect of dancing with one so attractive as Elton, but she glances unsurely in my direction.  
  
"Hey, don't worry about me," I say. Just. Go. Please. So Jen says yes and Elton leads her away and I'm left standing alone.  
  
Freedom.  
  
I angle my body slightly so that Elton and Jen are just in my peripheral vision, but I can't really see them unless I'm trying to. Slowly I take another sip of my drink and begin to scan the room for a familiar face or at least a prospective dance partner, when I feel a arm come to rest around my shoulder. Tipping my head back, I find Chritian standing at my right, slightly behind me.  
  
"Hey," I say, turning to watch the pairs of dancers again.  
  
"Hey yourself." Christian takes a step forward so that he's beside me and allows his arm to drop to his side, his hand sliding along the curves of my back on its way. He follows my gaze to where I am, without meaning to, watching Elton and Jen. Mostly Elton. Christina nods knowing. "Ahh, the infamous ex-boyfriend. So we aren't quite over him yet, are we?"  
  
"Oh please," I laugh, turning away from Elton and Jen and facing Christian. "Way over." He eyes me skeptically  
  
"Way, way, way," I add.  
  
"One more 'way' and I won't believe you," he laughs. I roll my eyes and begin to sway to the music.  
  
"Come on, let's dance," I say hopefully, reaching a hand out to him.  
  
Christian holds his hands out in front of him, palms up. "Sorry, babe, You know I don't do the dancing thing. Don't let that stop you though. If you want to dance by yourself, I'd love to watch you."  
  
"You are no fun," I chastise, returning to his side with a sigh.  
  
"No fun?" he asks, pretending to have taken offense. "Baby, I am fun. I am more than fun. Just talk to Emily Yansen if you want to know how fun I am."  
  
I laugh, snaking my arm around his waste. Emily Yansen is famously in love with Christian. "No, you're really no fun, but I like you anyway."  
  
"How you doing, Christian?"  
  
At the sound of Elton's voice, I quickly drop my arm from Christian's waste and lean away from him. Christian smiles down on me amusedly, then answers Elton, who has returned from the dance floor with Jen. "Doing alright. Can't complain."  
  
There's an awkward silence between the four of us. Alright, some one get the conversation rolling. Elton speaks up first. "Right," he says hurriedly. "Well, I'm out here. See you all later." And he turns on his heals and walks away. Elton has always been intimidated by Christian.  
  
"You're right," Christian begins thoughtfully as he watches Elton's retreat. "That there is one ball of charisma. Actually, I think I can even see how you're still in love with hi—"  
  
"Jen, this is Christian," I interrupt, cutting him short. "We pretend to be friends sometimes."  
  
Jen looks a little confused, but she smiles and says hi. Christians leans towards her and whispers loudly. "Don't let her fool you. She's actually desperately and tragically in love with me."  
  
Jen laughs, still confused, and I watch as it slowly dawns on her that we're both just kidding.  
  
Suddenly Elton's returns, looking very cross. "What's the matter, thought you were leaving?" I ask him.  
  
"Some bitch parked me in. Little silver Voltswagon." I duck my head to try to hide my smile behind my hair. But I look up at Christian to see him shaking his head at me, who recognized the car as mine. He's smiling though, which must be a good sign.  
  
"Well, speaking of driving, and parking, and leaving and all that good stuff," I say. "Want to take me and Jen home, Christian?"  
  
Christian raises his eyebrows. "You didn't drive yourself?" he asks pointedly.  
  
"I think I need a designated driver," I say, holding my drink that I've really only taken three sips off. Christian lets out a laugh, still shaking his head, and answers, "Alright, come on."  
  
So Christian, Jen, and I file off, leaving Elton alone to ponder the bitch who parked him in. Once we're past him Christian say, "You're awful, Becka," but he says it in a joking way.  
  
"I don't know," I answer. "You know what they say. All's fair in love and war."  
  
"And which one is this?" he asks.  
  
I have to think about that for a moment or two and then I answer. "War." 


	5. Several Flashes of Brilliance

A/N: Hey here's something I've been forgetting...

Disclaimer: this is Jane Austen's and not mine. She's just so good I thought I borrow.

There. Now, on with the story...

- - - - - - -

My future is Chase Everhart. Someday we will marry and with the amalgamation of my good DNA and his good DNA we will have an assortment of beautiful children who will help improve gene pool. Actually I've never met him—he's off in Europe getting cultured and I'm here—but I've seen a picture, and we're generally regarded as the ideal couple. He's Weston's cousin, one year younger, which makes him—hmm, twenty. How perfect. I find that he is one of the most interesting people at school, and he's not even here. I get to here all about it him from Weston, though, who's pretty much determined at this point to set us up should we ever meet. Christian calls it an unhealthy obsession. After all, I don't even know the guy. Oh come on, Christian. I've heard so much about him I feel like I know him already.

There is one more person I hear so much about that I, unfortunately in this case, feel like I know her, too, though I've never met her. Natalie Banks's nineteen-year-old cousin, Sophie Walker, who's not going to college or doing anything useful with her life because apparently she's a model or something similarly ridiculous. I guess she's been on the cover of YM or Seventeen or one of those magazines. I don't like her very much. Well, I don't like her at all really (it follows that Christian also finds this prejudice unhealthy as I have never met Sophie Walker). Natalie always insists on reading me all the emails she sends her, and they incredibly boring. And besides, come on, a model? Seriously, what is that?

- - - - - - -

For the next couple weeks I end up hanging out with Jen a lot, sort of teaching her the ways of the world, so to speak. At breakfast one day she asks me why I don't have a boyfriend and I answer dryly, "Because I have an ex-boyfriend."

Jen looks questioningly at me and I shake my head, "Never mind." Then I end up talking about Chase Everhart for about twenty minutes who, yes I know, is not really my boyfriend. So as a postscript, I add, "Actually, I don't really want a boyfriend, you know, it's not like I need one. I mean, I can always get Christian to take me to the movies if I've got nothing to do on a Saturday night, and usually my schedule's pretty full anyway."

Jen nods her head and say vaguely, "Right," as if she's not really listening to anything I've been saying. This is the point at which I begin wondering why the whole boyfriend conversation was brought up in the first place, so I wisely question, "Hey, so how 'bout you?"

Jen snaps to attention, looks at me and asks, "What?" thus proving that she hadn't been listening to me.

"How are you doing in the boyfriend area?" I ask again.

"Oh," Jen says, looking off into Never-Never Land, and then returning to my world to answer, "Well there is this guy..." She trails off.

Aha. There is this guy. Now we're getting some where. "Yes..." I encourage.

"He's name is Luke Emerson. I'm friends with his sister and he's an engineering major I think. He's really nice," Jen supplies.

Luke Emerson, Luke Emerson, Luke Emerson. Why does that name ring a bell? Oh my gosh, no! My protégé is in love with my dorky lab partner. It's all I can do from to keep from screaming "You can do better than him!" I'm guessing that wouldn't be the most tactful thing to say in this situation.

"Right, Luke Emerson. I know him," I say nonchalantly.

"You do?" Jen asks eagerly, dying for my approval. Hun, believe me, I really wish I could give it.

"Yeah," I continue uninterestedly. "We're lab partners in Chemistry. He's a little disheveled, don't you think?"

Jen noticeably deflate. "Maybe," she agrees. "But he's really nice," she adds as an afterthought.

"Well I'm sure he is," I say quickly. "Come on, we're going to be late for class."

"Okay," she says wearily.

Don't worry, Jen. We are going to find you something much better than the likes of Luke Emerson.

- - - - - - -

Creative Writing Class. Another one of these poetry labs where they're splitting us up into pairs. I'm sitting in between Jen and Elton and they're both looking expectantly at me. I look from one to the other, thinking this is ridiculous. Then I have one of my legendary Flashes of Brilliance. "Why don't you two work together?" I say, "I've got my eyes on something a little bit better." Quickly I survey the room for any remotely suitable partner. And there's Matt Rider. Right, well, that'll do. I sat by him last year in Survey of American Literature and he kept trying to hit on me. Oh well.

"Matt Rider? She's got her eyes on Matt Rider?!" I hear Elton ask in disbelief as I head to where Matt's seated. Ha ha ha. Well, at least I got one laugh out of this.

"Hey Matt, you're my partner," I say, taking the seat beside him.

"I'll be anything you want me to be," says Matt Rider, winking at me.

I roll my eyes. "Shut up and let's get this done."

"I'm right with ya."

I chance a glance at Elton and Jen, where they are working across the room. Elton has apparently lost interest in my attraction to Matt Rider and is paying attention to Jen. He's paying her a lot of attention, actually. Too much attention to be just trying to make me jealous. Wait a minute—

And suddenly I'm hit with another Flash of Brilliance. Elton and Jen. Yes.


	6. A Warning From Christian

Sorry for the delay and all. I had this chapter half way written, and then I lost it. So I got mad and stopped writing for a while. But hey, it's finally finished (I think it was better the first time though), and it's longer than usual too! Hooray!

- - - - - - - -

"I know what you're trying to do."  
  
"What?" I ask innocently, looking up at the somewhat intimidating, very tall, very I would say attractive if he wasn't extremely pissing me off at the moment, form of Christina who is standing beside me with his hands folded across his chest.  
  
We are at another party, yet again standing at the edge of another dance floor watching other people dance because the freak will never dance himself. Jen and Elton being one of the dancing pairs we're watching. Christian doesn't acknowledge me with a response, so I say, "I'm not 'trying to do' anything."  
  
"Becka, Becka, Becka," he says, shaking his head, "after all our years of friendship you wouldn't lie to me, would you?"  
  
"Oh, off course not," I answer, rolling my eyes in his direction. He meets my scowl with a reproving look, and I give in. "Oh alright," I admit. "Jen, Elton. There's obvious chemistry there. I'm just giving them a little extra push."  
  
For the past week or so instead of trying to avoid Elton I've been finding all possibly opportunities to have him around. At first he was a little surprised, but he pretty quickly got the idea that this was for Jen's sake and not my own.  
  
"It's not going to work, you know," Christian says.  
  
"Oh really?" I ask dryly. "And tell me, Eros god of love, why exactly is it not going to work?"  
  
"Oh no, I think you're smart enough to figure that one out yourself."  
  
"She's nice, he's handsome. No match could be more perfect," I challenge.  
  
"Except you and Chase," he interjects.  
  
"Except me and Chase, off course," I agree, smiling.  
  
Now it's Christian's turn to roll his eyes. Then he's right back on track. "Well, sorry I have to be the one to say it, but Elton doesn't exactly go for 'nice' girls, if you haven't noticed. He's more into—how do I put this tactfully—rich ones."  
  
Unbelievable. "So like the only reason he dated me for a years is because I've got money?"  
  
"Okay, that is totally not where I was going with that," Christian tries to interpose, but I cut him off.  
  
"Yeah, why didn't I think of that? Because of course there's not other reason a guy would ever want to date me. You must be right Christian. Genius."  
  
"Look!" Christian interrupts. Loudly. I shut up. "All I'm saying is, you know, watch yourself. Because I don't think it's Jennifer that Elton's after, even with her heart of gold."  
  
"Well, thanks for the heads up, Dr. Phil."  
  
"Sarcasm is truly one of your greatest assets."  
  
I grunt in reply. Christian is exasperated. I'm irate. "Look I'm out of here. I'll see you around, okay?" he says.  
  
"Whatever," I reply. He looks at me one more time, then shakes his head and walks away.  
  
I'm not allowed to wallow in my anger for very long, as pretty soon I'm joined by an overly-exuberant Jen, and am forced to put on the happy face. She has apparently lost Elton somewhere in the crowd (what a pity) and is bursting at the seems. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!"  
  
"Oh your gosh, what?" I say, hoping to stop her from repeating the phrase any more times.  
  
"Oh my gosh!" No such luck. "He asked me out!"  
  
He asked her out? Elton asked her out?! Damn, that's moving fast, even for him. Suddenly, I'm excited too. Ha ha ha. Eat that, Christian.  
  
"Oh my gosh!" God, now I'm saying it. "I can't believe Elton actually asked you out! Already!"  
  
Fifty percent of Jen's exuberance is suddenly knocked out of her. "No, not Elton," she says, looking at me very perplexed. "My friend, Luke Emerson."  
  
Hell. Not the chemistry geek. Why me God, why me?  
  
"Oh yeah, Luke Emerson," I say, none to excitedly. "I remember him. So what did you tell him?"  
  
"Well. I told him I'd think about it. Because I wanted to talk to you, of course. What do you think I should do?"  
  
"Jen, I can't tell you what to do." I mean, I could. But I'm not completely morally bankrupt. "If you like Luke more than any other guy you know, if you think that he is the best possible boyfriend you could ever have, than I don't see why you have to think about it." Okay, maybe I'm almost completely morally bankrupt.  
  
"Well," Jen begins unsurely. He eyes wander around the room full of people for a minute, as she tries to collect her thoughts. "It's hard to say if I like him more than every guy I know. Every guy, you know? I mean, I like your friends a lot, like Christian—"  
  
This is not headed in the right direction. "No, I don't like many people more than Christian—most of the time—" I interrupt, "but why don't we compare Luke to someone else, say, Elton. You and him have been getting a long pretty good lately. I could've sworn you were starting to like him, but if you like this Luke guy then by all means—"  
  
"No, actually," Jen interrupts me now, "I think I've decided to tell Luke no?" She says it like a question. "Is that right? Or wrong, is it wrong?"  
  
I smile. "Now that you've decided, I can tell you what I think. I think you're perfectly right."  
  
Jen exhales deeply, very relieved that I approve. Then she asks, "Do you really think Elton might like me?"  
  
"Well, yeah," I say as if it's obvious. "Why else would he be hanging around so much?"  
  
"I dunno," Jen shrugs. "For you maybe."  
  
"Believe me, Elton and me are old history. He's all about you now."  
  
Jen's all exited again. "That would be so awesome if he did like me. I mean, I really, really like him. He's just so increadible."  
  
I can't help but smile. My poor enamored friend.  
  
"Ready to go girls," Elton says from behind us, and Jen jumps five feet in the air at the sound of his voice.  
  
"Yep," I answer. We caught a ride with Elton to this party. "Ready Jen?" I ask.  
  
"Actually," Jen begins slowly, "I think I'm going to catch a ride home with Luke. Me and him need to... talk," she finishes, looking at me. I nod in approval.  
  
"Okay see you tomorrow," I say, and she takes off.  
  
"Wow, you mean the girl has friends besides you?" Elton says as soon as she gone.  
  
What?  
  
I look at him with bewilderment all over my face. "Sorry," he says. "I know she's your friend. I'll be nice. But seriously the girl is like a leach."  
  
What, what, what?! I'm so shocked I can't even answer him.  
  
"Come on, let's go," he says, placing a hand on my back and guiding me out of the room.  
  
Suddenly I'm wishing I had alternate transportation. 


	7. Ride Home

A/N: hey, that didn't take me _too _much time... and the chapters pretty long too (for me, anyway). yay for me.

thank you to all my wonderful reviewers who make me want to keep writing... anyway, enjoy

- - - - - - - -

When you feel that something terrible is about to happen you notice things differently. Everything seems ten times louder as we leave the party—the pseudo-indie rock blaring from the speakers. The mini-skirted easy girls flirting with whatever guys are at hand, we pass them by the door. The couple making out on the front lawn with a soundtrack of disgusting moaning sounds. Elton unlocks the car with the button on his key rings. He opens the door for me, and when he shuts it, I jump.

Taylor says I've got a strange sense of humor. Like sometimes I start laughing and nobody else understands why. I've tried to explain it to Christian a time or two when something strikes me as humorous, but he never gets it. Sometimes he pretends to, but he never does.

This is funny:

Elton turns down the radio that I just turned up to say, "So Becka, it's been really great hanging out with you lately." Here he pauses to give me opportunity to agree with him, and to make a quick glance in my direction.

"U-huh," I mutter noncommittally.

"You know, I really missed you this summer," Elton continues.

Ha ha ha. Like hell you did. I suppose I'm supposed to say "I missed you too," but instead I repeat "Uh-huh," and keep on staring out the window. Until the scenery comes to a standstill, and I notice we just pulled into fast food parking lot. I don't think we're here for late night Big Macs either, as McDonald's appears to be very closed.

Elton turns of the car and turns towards me. "Do you ever wish you change one thing you did in your life?" he asks, with the deepest sincerity he can simulate.

Well, twenty minutes ago Christian said he was leaving the party, and I almost wish I'd gone with him. But then I would've missed out on the hilarious irony of this moment of my life.

"No," I answer.

"I never should have broken up with you," Elton says, and then leans in to kiss me.

I burst out laughing.

Elton back up, and with a look of bewilderment asks, "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I mean, it's just really funny."

"What's funny?" he says, his bewilderment turning to frustration. "I don't see anything funny."

"Oh, the stopping in the vacant parking lot, saying that you missed me, yada yada yada. I find it very humorous."

"I _did _miss you," Elton grumbles.

"Elton," I say, trying my best not to sound too patronizing, "You were going with Elena Norman all summer. Not missing me. You can't have a summer time girlfriend and a school year girlfriend, hun. It's against normal dating rules."

"So you've been flirting with me all week just to make me look like an idiot now, huh?"

Excuse me?! "Have I been flirting with you all week? I have not been flirting with you all week!" I exclaim.

"Maybe not," he admits with a scowl, "but you've been, like, having me around all the time."

Impossible man. "That was for Jen," I explain. "I thought you and Jenhad a thing going on. Not you and me."

Now it's Elton's turn to find something funny. "Jen!?" he laughs. "Me and _Jen!? _Oh my God, Becka, that is too comical. She's like fricking Pollyanna. Me and Jen have nothing in common." Looking at me he adds, with more seriousness, "Me and you, _we _have a lot in common," (like... what?) and leans forward to kiss me again.

"Don't even," I warn.

He does. I think this is a very good opportunity to do something I've always secretly wanted to do. I slap him. A little harder than I meant to, I think. Very quickly he has is mouth off of me and he's rubbing his wounded right cheek.

"You hit me!" he accuses.

"You kissed me," I counter.

I looks at me as if he'd like to hit me back, and for the first time I realize I'm very alone with in this car with him. I unbuckle my seat belt and climb out of the car, slamming the door behind me.

"What are you doing?" he shouts after me, but already I'm climbing inside again, this time in the back seat.

"Let's go, Tiger," I say.

"Bitch," he mumbles, and turns the radio up, and gets me home.

- - - - - - -

Three days go by and I manage to evade both Christian and Jen, but mostly Christian. Yes, I know I'll have to face them both eventually, but later better than sooner, right? (Or does that go the other way around?)

Then comes Wednesday. I'm sitting at my computer desk when I hear someone knocking on the front door of our apartment. The door opens and closes, as Jeremy lets whoever in, and then Christian is standing in the doorway of my room.

"Howdy stranger," he says, with a big goofy grin on his face.

I frown at him briefly, then turn back to my desk and yell, "Jeremy!" Soon my cousin is in the doorway, as Christian ambles his way over to my bed and sits himself down.

"What is this?" I ask Jeremy, gesturing towards Christian.

From behind me Christian shakes his head and says with a good deal of melodrama, "I always knew the day would come when I would be reduced to a 'this.'"

"Make him leave," I command Jeremy.

"You kidding?" he says with a laugh. "He's larger than me."

"I am larger than him," Christian adds, very seriously.

"You're my hero, Jeremy," I say sarcastically.

"Hey, as far as I'm concerned," Jeremy answers, "I'd say you brought this upon yourself, cousin. Reeking havoc on the world, attempting to create all sorts of new couples to interrupt ones social patterns. It's like, poetic justice." He continues muttering to himself as he makes his way back to the living room, and I'm left alone with Christian.

"So. I heard Elton drove you home Saturday night. Only you," Christian says, after a moment of silence. I give him a how-do-you-know-that look. "I grilled Jen for information," he supplies.

I sigh, and turn around in my chair to face him. "Why do you always have to be so damn right?" I ask, thus admitting that he was, indeed, right.

"I don't know. It is peculiar."

"And so annoying," I scowl.

"Yet endearing."

"Which makes you twice as annoying."

"But somehow still forgivable?" He leaves that one off like a question, a little unsurely, like he doesn't know if I'll actually forgive him or not.

"Are you apologizing?" I question.

"Not for being right," he begins.

"Oh, no, of course not," I roll my eyes.

"But for being a jackass about being right, yeah. I'm sorry, I know I was a jerk at the party. But at least I was a well-meaning jerk. I mean, usually I'm just a jerk."

"Well, next time try to shoot for just well-meaning," I smile. Okay, so I'm a push-over when it comes to Christian. But that _was _a good apology. And anyway, it's hard work staying mad at him.

He smiles and nods, and we're alright again. Then he asks, "Was it very bad with Elton?" But not like he hopes it was very bad because he wants to say he told me so, more like he hopes it wasn't bad.

"I hit him pretty hard," I offer.

"Nice," Christian laughs. "Something I've always wanted to do myself."

"I think it's gonna be worse with Jen, actually."

"Yep," he breaths in, a little smugly. "I'd hate to be you when you're telling her Elton was after you."

"Hey," I scowl, "what happened to the sympathetic, understanding Christian I had here a minute ag?."

"Oh come on, I've got to gloat a little. I _was _right."

I pick my stuffed Elmo off of the floor and chuck it at him. "Go away," I laugh.

"Go away? Oh, Becka, you're never gonna get rid of me," he grins.

But you know? That doesn't sound too bad. Good friends are good things.


	8. New Faces With Old Names

A/N: Well, it's been a while but a lot has happened since the last chapter (for instance, I started college, went to a John Mayer/Maroon 5 concert—which was the best concert ever and also the highlight of my life—my computer crashed... so on, so forth). But I just got back from swing dancing, and I decided to finish this chapter whilst I was still on that high.

Mwhahahaha. Here's where the fun really starts. Enter two of my favorite characters.

o o o o o o o o o o o

Now I'll admit, 'love' is one of those abstract nouns with a thousand something possible meanings. But by any definition of the word, Jen was in no way in love with Elton last Saturday night. I mean, I'd barely talked her out of Luke Emerson, right? But as soon as I tell her—quite tactfully, I might add—that dear Elton was in fact interested in me, dear Elton has suddenly become the great love of her life. She cries off and on for two days. She watches _My Best Friend's Wedding _twice. She skips Creative Writing.

Here's the point where I decide things have got to stop. Because 1) this has got to be unhealthy for the girl and 2) I'm getting tired of hearing about Elton every other conversation. So I make an executive decision and take her to the only place where she won't be able to talk about him. Because, I figure, she won't be able to talk at all.

"Oh my gosh, Becka, I'm sooo glad you came over because I just got the best news in the world—oh, hi Jen—yeah, I just got the best news," Natalie Banks busts as we enter her dorm room.

"How're you doing, Natalie," I ask, trying to slow the ebb of conversation. It's impossible to describe how fast this girl talks.

"Oh, just great. I just saw Elton, and he was with this girl I've never met before. Her name's Adrianna or Arianna or something I think. Very pretty girl."

Side glance at Jen. She looks like she's doing alright. Staring at Melanie's closet, actually. I'm not sure if she's really hearing any of this. Either way I try to steer the conversation in a different direction. "So what was your news, Natalie?" I ask.

"Oh, it's the greatest!" she exclaims, "Sophie Walker—"

Oh no, not her.

"Sophie Walker has decided to take a break from her modeling and guess where she's decided to go?"

"Thailand?" I ask hopefully.

Natalie laughs like that was funny. "No! She's coming _here! _Isn't that the best?!"

Oh sure. The best. Jen, having heard my diatribes on Sophie Walker, is laughing silently at me from behind Natalie. "That's great, Natalie," I manage.

"Oh, but there's one thing. She's flying in tomorrow and someone needs to pick her up and you know I don't have a car..." for once in her life the girl trails off as she looks hopefully at me. My visions getting blurry.

"What time?" I ask dismally.

"3 o'clock."

"Did you ask Christian?" My only hope. This seems the exactly the sort of thing he would do, him being the kind of person who would do anything for anybody. Especially for me. Especially if I beg.

"Christian has a class."

Dammit. I knew that. Advanced Physics. Well...

"Okay, I guess I can pick her up," I give in, feeling particularly benevolent.

"Oh my gosh, Becka!" Thank you so much! You're the best!" says Natalie and continues on like this for some time.

Great. Just great.

o o o o o o o o o o o

I'm trying to tell myself as I'm waiting in the airport, _maybe this girl won't be so bad_. But as soon as I see her walking down the terminal I change my mind. It's hard to miss this girl—long dark hair, bright green eyes, waist the size of a pencil. Mmm-hmm. Definitely the model.

When I see her begin looking around for Natalie, I giver her a little wave and she starts towards me.

"Hi," I say, smiling generously, "You must be Sophie Walker." She nods slightly. "I'm Becka Hanson," I finish. A light of recognition comes on in Sophie's eyes and now she smiles. "Oh yeah, Hi Becka," and she shakes my hand.

Once we've gotten her stuff and loaded it into the car, I'm trying to think of something to say. Without much luck. It's a thirty minute drive from the airport back to campus and it's going to be a long thirty minutes if neither of us says anything. But, I mean, she's a _model. _That's pretty one-dimensional—how much can you talk about it? I decide to take a new angle on the model thing and ask, "So, do you travel a lot being a model?" I'm trying hard not to sound condescending.

"Actually, I was just in Europe doing a photo shoot she says."

Ah, Europe. Well, that leaves opportunity for me to slide into one of my favorite subjects. "Oh yeah? I know someone who's in Europe, well actually I know his cousin. But Chase Everhart, yeah."

"Oh," she's says, a little oddly. "Oh, I met Chase."

Oh my God. Suddenly this girl is a little more interesting. "You have?" I ask, with maybe a little too much enthusiasm. "I've heard so much about him but I've never met him. What's he like, is he hot?" Oooh, that's probably part of that coming-off-as-shallow problem. Sorry Christian.

Sophie shrugs. "He wasn't bad looking, I guess."

Okaaay. Could you be any more vague? I try again. "Is he nice?"

Another shrug. "He seemed perfectly amiable."

Amiable? Who says 'amiable'? What does that even mean? Okay, one last time. "Well, was he smart."

"He seemed to be well-informed."

Huh. Insufferable girl. Obviously she is not going to tell me anything about Chase Everhart, which makes me like her less than ever. I give up.

"What kind of music do you like?" I ask, as I turn on the radio.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o

The next day Christian and I are sitting on the ground in the middle of campus, leaning against the back of the Science building sign. He's supposed to be explaining this chemistry thing to me, but I can only take so much of it before my mind.

"Guess who's in town?" I ask, as I pass the chemistry book into his lap.

"I take it from that hint of hostility in your voice that it isn't John Mayer."

"Sophie Walker," I supply.

"Ahh," he nods, eyebrows raised in his I'm-laughing-on-the-inside way. "That's interesting."

"And guess," I continue importantly, "who she met in Europe."

"Oh please don't tell me it's Chase bloody Everhart."

"She wouldn't tell me a _thing_ about him, and I was obviously interested," I complain, now that we've gotten to where I really wanted to get to.

"I'm sure you were," Christian says dryly. "Maybe she doesn't really know him." Christian is always trying to make excuses for people, like he automatically assumes everyone must be a nice person. It's kind of that innocent-until-proven-guilty thing.

"Well then she could've just said, 'Oh, well I barely met him. I don't really know,' and I wouldn't be so annoyed. She was obviously just trying to piss me off."

"Obviously," he rolls his eyes. "Why would Sophie Walker want to piss you off anyway?"

"How should I know? Obviously the girl's just got something against me."

"Right. I'm sure. Maybe she's just trying to help you overcome the unhealthy Chase Everhart obsession."

"It's not an unhealthy obsession," I grumble.

"What, it's a healthy one?" Christian asks, smiling down on me wryly.

I laugh in spite of myself. "No," I answer deliberately. "I mean, it's not an 'obsession.'"

"Uh-huh. Right," he shakes he head laughing at me. I screw up my face, pretending to be mad, and then start laughing to.

"Anyway," Christian continues, "I've got some news."

"Oh, please tell me it's good news."

"Well, it's news news." The way we're sitting one of my legs is stretched out on top of his, him using my shoulder as an elbow-rest, and he starts playing absent-mindedly with my hair as he says this. It's taken some effort to convince this school that Christian and I are not now, or ever planning on dating. No. I'm thinking this may be part of the problem.

"Shoot," I say.

"Elton's got a girlfriend."

"Ugg," I moan, leaning my head back against the wall. "Will I never stop hearing about Elton?"

"Probably not."

"What she like?" I ask.

"Oh," he laughs, "You're just gonna have to meat this girl. There's no describing her." Then, sliding the chemistry book back onto my lap he continues, "Come on, girl, what are we here to do?"

"Nooo!" I moan, leaning my forehead on his shoulder, in an exaggerated display of my despair.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry," said a voice from above, "do either of you, by any chance, know West Canin?"

At first I don't move from my half-on-top-of-Christian position, until I look up and see who it is that's addressing us. Then instantly I'm moving and straitening and standing and I'm saying, "Oh my God, you're Chase Everhart."


	9. Enters Chase Everhart

A/N: Sorry guys. I've been doing some _Emma _reading and I realized I've gotten a little off-track. Skipped some things I didn't mean to skip. I think I can work it out though. Just gonna have to do a little back-tracking after this chapter.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Then I realize how weird that must sound. You're Chase Everhart, I mean. He's probably thinking, how does this girl know me? "Sorry," I start over, "You're Chase Everhart, the cousin. I'm—"

"Becka Hanson," he interrupts amusedly, "the girl-friend's best friend."

"Right," I answer, smiling and nodding slowly. Ha! He knows who I am.

Christian, who I have forgotten about for the moment, is now standing up behind me and offering a hand to Chase. "Christian," he offers, by way of introduction.

Chase shakes his hand. "Hi." It's a very civil, though somewhat tense introduction. Christian, who usually is ready to like anyone and everyone, is apparently determined to not get along with the one person I find so interesting. How annoying. How like him.

Chase continues, basically talking to me, "So, you guys can take me to West's place?"

"Sure can," I answer cheerfully. I fall in pace with Chase as we walk to his car. Christian, who appears to be suffering from a severe mood swings, is following languidly behind us, with one hand in his pocket and the other holding my Chemistry book. When we get to Chase's car, he hands it to me and says, "So seeing as we're done here, I think I'm gonna take off."

"Aw, sure you don't want to hang around, be the third wheel?" I smile roguishly.

"Oh, yeah," he says sarcastically. "No, I'll catch up with you later. We still on for tonight?"

Oh. Right. We are supposed to hit a movie or something. But I'd like to remain noncommittal, what with Chase Everhart so unexpectedly in town. Never know how plans might change. Recognizing my indecision, Christian shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Well, give me a call. I'll be around." Then he opens the door for me and I slide into Chase's car.

"So," Chase says, once the door is shut and we're on our way. "You and Christian...?" He leaves that one off like a question.

"Oh, God no," I answer. "I mean, I've known him since forever. We're friends."

Chase lets a smile slowly spread across his face. "Good to hear," he says. Then we ride in silence for a few minutes, a comfortable silence though with the radio playing in the background. I'm examining him, as closely as I can without appearing to be examining him. He looks even better than his picture—this guy is basically the prototype for classic male attractiveness—tall, dark, you know the deal. I'm glad I blow-dried my hair this morning. I'm glad I put on eyeliner.

"So what are you doing here?" I ask, after a while. "West told me you were in Europe."

"Well, I was," Chase answers, "which was great. But it gets, you know, exhausting. So I thought I'd transfer over here and finish up the semester." He shrugs. "Maybe the year. I'm a day early, but West and Taylor know I'm coming." He has an easy way of talking, and is altogether natural. This is significant because Christian's been assuring me for the past year of so that Chase Everhart is probably shallow and boring. Not the case. I which he were here to see how wrong he is.

"Huh," I say, frowning a little. "They didn't tell _me _you were coming." Then, after I think about it I add, "Actually, I haven't seen much of Taylor and West lately. Things have been, you know... busy," I finish, gesturing vaguely with my hands.

Chase smiles. "Yeah, from what I hear you're like the unofficial social director on campus. Must be crazy." He's laughing at me a little, but I like that. Love it really. Actually, I generally just love being the center of attention, so anyway it comes...

When we make it to West's, I go in ahead of Chase, announcing, "Look what I found." Then the room's in an uproar for a while—You're early! When did you get here? Nice to finally meet you—Finally we settle down on the couches for some coherent conversation.

This Chase guy is brilliant. He's obviously smart, and funny, and full of all the right things to say. He is exactly the kind of person I could really get along with, just like I expected.

Another interesting thing is how everyone here knows that me and Chase, we're supposed to end up together. From where I'm sitting, that looks pretty good. It's nice knowing from the very beginning where things are headed. He ends up sitting by me, and he's talking to everyone, off course, but especially to me.

Christian shows up around five, explaining that he's bored and hungry and he knows there's always food here. West tries to introduce him to Chase, but the guys say simultaneously, "We met." So much for being civil.

"I thought you had a date tonight," West calls to Christian, who has headed into the kitchen.

"I got stood up," he says back. Then he reappears back in the living room with a box of cereal in hands.

"Christian Lewis got stood up," Taylor marvels. "Aren't there girls like begging you to go out with them? Who stood you up."

"Her," he points to me.

The room gasps collectively, in mock surprise and horror.

"What can I say?" I shrug. "I guess you always take for granted what you've got."

"Indeed," Christian grumbles, planting himself on my other side and plopping his cereal box in my lap, which I unconsciously begin to eat.

This is a very familiar situation, Christian and I being paired off like this. But today it's a little strange. A moment ago Chase and I were the center of attention, now that shifted to Christian and me. I never thought about before what would happen with me and Christian if I got a boyfriend. I guess that's something I'll have to deal with now that I've got a prospect.

But not right now. "Let's do something," I say.

"Like what?" Taylor asks.

"We could go eat," says Christian, who's got a fistful of cereal at the moment.

Then it's confusion for a couple minutes.

"All we need is Jen and we'd have the whole group," I say.

"And Elton," adds West.

"I think he has a girlfriend." Taylor.

"Do we have to always have Elton?" Me

"The more the merrier," Christian says gleefully.

I shoot him a deadly look. "Why don't we just invite the whole campus then," I grumble.

"We could invite Natalie." Taylor.

"Mmm. I want to meet her cousin." Christian. I hate him.

"_Her _cousin?" West.

"The model. Sophie Walker." Christian again.

Taylor says "She's here?" and Chase says "I met her in Europe" at basically the same time.

"Can't we just have Jen?" I plead.

By the time we get going, we've got the whole gang, fortunately minus Elton and his girlfriend. We decide to go to Yum Yum's, a Chinese place where we like to go with big groups. I end up driving with Christian, who I don't talk to until he says, "Oh, come on Becka. Nobody's gonna stop you from sitting by Chase Everhart."

Christian's certainly not at least. When we get there, he sits by Sophie.


	10. One Near Catastrophe and More Chase

A/N: hey, guess what I did in earth science today? chapter 9. hurray. yay for boring classes. anyway, I fit the Jen-Luke bit in here that I skipped, so I think I'm back on track with the story. hurray again. Another thing I noticed is that there is always at least one typo in these chapters. This is not because I'm dumb, but because I'm lazy. After writing these and typing these I just don't feel like proofreading them. So I thought about proofreading this one, and then I decided not to (but it's the thought that counts right?), so I apologize in advance for the typo that's v. likely in here somewhere.

I watched _Emma _(the movie) again last night with my roommate, and now I'm in love with Mr. Knightly again.. sigh.. too bad he's a fictional character.

Another one of my random disclaimers: the basics are Jane Austen's. Christian is mine (almost).

Okay I'm done now.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I end up next to Jen. Chase places himself quite nicely on my other side, though it's obvious this isn't going to matter, as Jen is in a complete state of panic and in definite need of some calming down. She's got a story to tell.

"Becka," she moans almost as soon as we're sitting. "I have just had the worst day of my life!" She sighs heavily and slumps down in her chair. I lean my elbows onto the table (very impolite, I know, but who really cares these days?) while I wait for her to continue. Feeling a little guilty—I just had the best day of _my _life.

"Okay," she begins again once she's ready. "I went to the cafe at noon today to grab some lunch, you know?" She pauses to make sure I'm following. Which I am, though I'm not sure how the news thus-far translates into the-worst-day-ever. Again she continues, "And guess who ended up in line right next to me?!"

Oh God, please not Elton.

"Luke Emerson!" Jen supplies.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. This I can handle. Apart form him being my lab partner, I had actually forgotten about Luke Emerson and any Luke-Jen connections.

"How did it go?" I ask solemnly, and with intense concern, although now that I know this is about nothing worse than Luke, I'm more worried about how to catch Chase's attention once I'm finished here.

"Well, we both just stood there for a couple minutes pretending like we didn't see each other and I just wanted to die, Becka. I wanted to _die_!" Pause for emphasis. Then she continues, "Then finally he was like "Oh hi Jen," like he just saw me. So I was like "hi." And then we talked for a while and he told me he'd read _The Da Vince Code _which he knows is like my favorite book in the world." Oh. Leave it to Jen to think _The Da Vince Code _is good writing. "And he said he really like it, and then we got through line and he went to sit with his sister. But I just got take out and left because it was just too weird." This is where she stops despairingly, and looks towards me for an opinion.

I'm think, that's it? That's the story of the worst day ever? My good days are sores than that. I begin, "That's good Jen." She looks at me like how-is-that-good.

"I mean," I keep going, "you guys were bound to run into each other some time. And I think the way that you, and I have to say Luke, handled it was really great. And just think, next time you see him it won't be so awful."

"Really?" she asks, all wide-eyed relief.

"Really," I assure her.

Then she's comfortable again and she says, "It was nice of him to read that book, wasn't it?"

"Sure Jen," I sigh, looking longingly sideways at Chase. He's talking to Sophie Walker, poor boy, who's sitting across form him. By now everyone's settled into a conversation, so I'm left talking to Jen until our food comes. Not that that's a bad thing in itself, don't get me wrong. Just when Chase is around.

When the food does arrive, I take the opportunity of asking Christian, sitting across from me, if he's bought the tickets yet for the play we're seeing Thursday night. The way Christian looks at me, I know he knows exactly what I'm doing. But he's been ignoring me for Sophie Walker all night, and I know what he's doing too. So we're even.

"No," he says. "I'll get around of it." Then as a postscript he adds, "If you're sure you're gonna show up, that is."

I choose to ignore that.

"What play are you going to see?" asks Chase.

Ah, perfect. Am I good, or am I good?

"_Les Misrables,_" actually."

"Really?" he's all interest. "What time is it at?"

"Seven."

"On Thursday?"

I nod. Here comes the good part. "Want to come?"

Christian kicks me under the table. Hard. Again, ignoring.

"I'd love too," says Chase.

"Good stuff."

Christian, who looks like he's going to kill me or die, turns to Jen. "Jen," he asks pathetically, "please tell me you want to come see _Les Misrables _on Thursday night."

"Okay," says Jen, who has probably never heard of _Les Misrables _but is still on a high from my approval of the Luke Emerson episode. That's probably better anyway. At least he didn't invite Sophie Walker.

"How about you?" Christian continues, turning to the girl at his side. "Interested in Broadway musicals?" I spoke too soon. Insufferable man.

Sophie reacts by looking at me, which surprises me, and begins, "I'd love..." she glances over to Chase who shrugs as if to say "like I care." "...to come," she finishes, smiling sloppily up at Christian. Now _I _want to die.

"Ha ha ha," Christian says to me. "Now I have two dates."

"And all you need is a life," I answer sweetly.

"Bet I could get more," he ignores me. "Hey Taylor—"

"I'm already going, hun, and not with you," says my friend laughing.

"Oooh, shot down," I laugh.

But here I am again, flirting with Christian. This is going to be a real problem.

"Let's see," I say truing abruptly back to Chase.

"Let's see what?" he asks.

"Well, I figure you're probably the most interesting person to talk to here since I know all these losers. I'm just trying to think of a good question." After a little more thinking time I say, "Got it. So, what was the last CD you bought, Chase?"

Chase laughs. "That's your idea of a good question?"

"Hey, it's very important. You can tell a lot about a person by the kind of music they listen to."

"Alright," he shrugs. "I just bout Rooney."

"Are you serious?" I ask. "Christian, he listens to good music."

"I heard," says Christian dryly.

"So what CDs have you been buying?" Chase asks me.

"Uh-uh. That's cheating. Gotta think of your own question," I answer.

"Okay... favorite book."

"_Big Fish_, by Daniel Wallace. _About a Boy, _by Nick Hornby. Or anything Henry James."

"Never heard of _Big Fish._"

"It's wonderful. Favorite movie."

"I think I have to say _Monty Python and the Holy Grail._"

"Mmm. Good choice. But not as good as _The Princess Bride_."

"Not as good as _The Princess Bride_," echoes Christian.

"It's our movie," I explain.

"Right," says Chase, moving on. "Favorite character in _Lord of the Rings_."

"In the books Pippin and Faramir. But I have to say Aragorn in the movies."

"Naturally," Chase rolls his eyes.

"He's _so _sexy. And hey, at least I didn't say Legolas. I mean, Aragorn _has _a character.

"True," he laughs.

This is how we spend the rest of the evening, until at 11:00 Christian is driving me home. It's a very quiet ride.


	11. Regarding Sophie's Piano

A/N: A huge thanks to all of my reviewers. You guys rock. Also my roommate rocks who made me keep writing this week despite my lack of energy or enthusiasm (v. bad week, you know how it goes). So without further ado...

- - - - - - - - -

Christian calls Thursday afternoon while I'm considering an outfit for the evening. "I'm guessing you're riding with Chase Everhart," he says.

"Yeah," I answer, feeling slightly guilty. "I was going to call you..."

"No you weren't. You were going to assume I'd figure it out." Christian is hard to read over the phone. I can't tell if he's amused or pissed off. I know I'm being a little flaky, because I've got that feeling in my gut that I'm screwing Christian over here. But I'm still making excuses.

"You've got Jen and Sophie now, anyway."

"I do," he says matter-of-factly, so I still can't tell how he's feeling about this. I'm struggling for something else to say, which is an unusual thing when I'm talking to Christina. But he cuts the conversation short. "I'll see you there, anyway. Talk to you later, Beck."

I barely say goodbye before he hangs up.

I think about calling him back and apologizing, because whether he means to or not he's giving me quite the guilt trip. But I've still got to pick out an outfit. And I'll see him there.

When Chase picks me up at 6:30 I'm dressed to kill, and still feeling guilty. Chase notices my little black skirt and red wrap shirt appreciatively. A small triumph. By the time we get to the theater I've talked myself out of apologizing to Christian, especially after I see him. He's got Jen and Sophie and no room to talk. On his part, he doesn't acknowledge me either. We all head inside to our seats. I'm by Chase.

Taylor senses the tension between Christian and me and makes sure she sitting at my other side. "What's going on?" she asks, glancing quickly towards Christian who is four seats away from me. We're like this: Chase, me, Taylor, West, Jen, Christian, Sophie.

"Nothing," I say deliberately, "is going on." Really, nothing is. What can I do if Christian is being a pain in the ass?

Taylor shrugs like she doesn't believe me, but lets that one slide. She'll probably grill me later. For now, I turn to Chase for better conversation.

Seeing Sophie Walker has reminded him of something interesting. "Want to hear a scandal?" he asks.

Me, I'm all for scandals. Especially ones that involve people I don't like. "Yes, please," I answer, drawing the sentence out a little.

"Well," he begins, leaning towards me confidentially, "You know she's got an apartment now, with Natalie Banks, and she'll be here for likely the rest of the year?"

I shrug and shake my head. "I know as little about the girl as possible."

Chase laughs. "Anyway, apparently this Walker girl is something of a piano-extraordinaire, and that's not something her and Natalie fit into there budget. So guess what shows up at their apartment yesterday?"

He's got to be kidding. I give him a look of disbelief that begs him to continue.

"A piano," Chase supplies.

"Dude," I'm dumbstruck. "Somebody bought the girl a piano? Nobody buys me pianos."

"I don't know," Chase shrugs, looking down at me sideways. "Christian might."

I ignore the innuendo. "No, Christian would tell me to buy my own piano."

"Speaking of Christian, is there a reason he's sitting halfway across the world from you?"

"Probably," I roll my eyes. I really don't want to talk about Christian. "But it's definitely not as interesting as Sophie Walker's piano. Who do you think bought it for her?"

"Well," he begins, but now the play is starting. "Intermission," he promises.

I pout. "You'd leave me in suspense that long?"

"I sure would, babe," he says. And so it's settled. He'll tell me the rest at intermission. I really don't mind waiting.

- - - - - - - - -

At intermission we all file into the lobby. Everyone's engaging in conversation about the play, but I pounce on Chase and drag him away from the rest as to hear his version of this Sophie story.

"What?" he asks innocently, like he doesn't know what I want to hear.

I scowl at him in mock annoyance. "You promised. Who bought her the piano?"

"I don't _know _for sure, Becka. It just a theory, you know."

"Whatever. Let's hear it."

"Okay. Well, Sophie has this best friend in London, right? Lauren Campbell, who she was staying with while she was over there. half a year ago Lauren married this guy Joseph Dixon. Now I've got in from some pretty reliable sources that there was definitely some history between Joseph Dixon and Sophie Walker, but she turned him down. After that he got with Lauren and married her pretty quick. Now Lauren Campbell's a nice girl, but definitely not exotic like Sophie is, her being a model and all. So here's what _I _think. When Sophie went back to London, Joseph Dixon must have started to fall in love with her again. That's why she left. It's her was of turning him down again. And him sending her the piano is his way of saying he's not letter he go."

I'm just staring at him by the time he's done. "That is _so _convoluted."

"Deliciously convoluted," he agrees with a roguish smile.

God, he's sexy.

"So you think the piano's from Joseph Dixon?" I ask.

"That's my guess. Anyway, it makes a good story, doesn't it."

"Mmm. Yeah. It's like an episode of _The O.C._"

Chase laughs. The play's about to start again. "Come on, he says, placing his hand on the small of my back to lead me back inside. It's nice. Really nice.

Once we're back inside, Taylor catches up to us. She links arms with me and pulls me forward, away from Chase, a little. Then she chides, "You and Chase are being rather exclusive tonight," But she's smiling while she says it. We're both happy about this, Taylor and me. She wants me with Chase almost as much as I do.

"I know," I reply. I'm not one to get giggly over a guy, but I'm smiling all the way across my face right now. It almost makes me want to take a step back—I'm not one to let myself go so quickly. But this is Chase Everhart. This is meant to be.

"Have you heard about Sophie's piano?" I ask, to change the subject and also because it's very interesting to me at the moment.

"That some one got her one? Yeah. What, did Chase tell you who the mystery lover is?"

"Well, he's got a theory," I admit.

"Oh," Taylor says importantly. "Well, I've got my _own _theory about that."

I can't imagine what she's talking about. "What? Who do _you _think bought it for her?" We're sitting down now.

"I'll tell you later," she says.

No! What is it with everyone leaving me hanging tonight? "Taylor!" I complain. "Just tell me!"

"It's starting," she whispers, pointing towards the stage," I laugh. "Fine, but you'd better tell me later.

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's too good to keep to myself," she assures me.

I roll my eyes. "I'm sure." 


	12. Changing Tides

A/N: GAAAAAAAAAAAH! This chapter drove me crazy! And I still don't like it. Sorry if it sucks too much, though I think I worked the majority of the suck-y-ness out of it. It still sucks some, though. I just couldn't keep re-writing anymore. I want to get on with it. At least it's a little bit longer than usual.

Hurray, the Eagles are 4-0 (football, baby). Just thought I'd add that it there. I'm excited. Superbowl this year. That's right.

- - - - - - - - - - -

My interest in Sophie Walker's piano wanes by the end of the play, so I don't try extra hard to drag Taylor's theory out of her. She wants to tell me anyway, and she'll find an opportunity. Instead, I'm sticking close to Chase as the seven of us try to decide what to do next.

"Me and Jen vote for something not so cultured," says Christian. For a moment I wonder how Jen's doing—yes, I've been neglecting her, and although Christian brought her along I still feel somewhat responsible to keep her having a good time. But one glance at her and Christian and I know they're doing fine. She's all smiles and he's using her head as an armrest. He's good at making people comfortable with him.

"Got any ideas?" I ask him. The first three words either of us said to the other tonight. We're walking back to our cars now, which means we been giving each other the silent treatment for a very long time.

Christian looks directly at me—another first for the evening. "No," he says. "You're our idea person."

"Yeah Becka," Taylor agrees. "Come up with something good."

"We're leaving it all to me, then?" I ask, rubbing my hands together and grinning evilly. Ah, power.

Everyone shrugs or nods, except for Christian who appears to be paying little attention. He's staring into oblivion, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. I watch him for a few short moments and turn away, inwardly shrugging of the impulse to edge over to him and find out what's going on there.

"Follow me and Chase then," I say gleefully, grabbing the boy's hand and dragging him to his car.

"Chase and me!" West shouts after me. Grammar police.

"So what's your grand scheme?" Chase asks as we pull out of the parking lot.

"Don't have one," I admit. "Just drive...that way," I finish, randomly pointing right.

"Where ever you want to go, I'll follow your lead," he answers, turning the car in that direction.

Why is it that I always feel that everything Chase says to me has a double meaning? Maybe I'm just crazy. But seriously: "Wherever you want to go, I'll follow your lead"? Think about that.

We pass a couple of coffee houses and restaurants, but nothing that looks terrible exciting. Then I see a sign that interests me. "Karaoke?" I read loud, as a suggestion. "We can watch really bad people try to sing and quietly mock them."

"Sounds like a good time," says Chase, pulling into the parking lot.

"What is this?" West yells to me, as we're all climbing out of our respective cars.

"Fun!" I answer. "Anyway, to late to get out of it now. The social director has spoken."

"Okay Becka," Taylor says once we're inside. "You've brought his upon us and now you've got to sing something."

"Oh no," I answer. Not that I mind being the center of attention usually. Tonight I'm interested in more specific attention, however. Chase's attentions. That's all.

"Oh yes," says Chase, joining the opposition. I wrinkle my nose at him and ready another protest, but then I have a better idea.

"Okay Buster," I say to Chase. "You we're part of this. You're singing with me." Actually, I don't even know if the guy can stay on key, but I like pairing us off like this again.

"Uh! What do you mean? I had nothing to do with this," Chase replies dramatically. But by now everybody's on my side, all spurring him on. "Come on Chase, you've got to sing with her." Only Christian and Sophie Walker are quiet, though I'm not surprised by the silence on either part. I'm starting to doubt whether Sophie Walker ever talks, and as for Christian, he's been really weird all night. I decide to ignore his lack of enthusiasm.

I'm tugging on Chase's arm, and finally he gives in and lets me drag him to the front of the room. Our whole group (with the possible exception of the two voiceless ones) applauds.

Then Chase and I are looking through the list of songs. "Can you hold a tune?" I ask playfully.

"Can you?" he returns, eyebrows up and smiling.

I pretend to be insulted. "Of course!"

"We'll see," he replies skeptically, still smiling the same teasing smile.

"I guess we will," I shoot back, like I don't believe him either. He just laughs.

I'm starting to see how Chase and I could be a dangerous combination. We've got such similar personalities that we just goad each other on, and there's no one to slow down the movement. I can imagine the trouble the two of us could get ourselves into. He's nothing like Christian—Christian who keeps me sane. It worries me a little, yes. But I mean, that's great in a friend, the balancing each other out, but shouldn't a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship be a little more than that? Something more dynamic maybe? Sparks flying and all that jazz? That's what I think.

We decide to do Brittany Spears, "Hit Me Baby One More Time," because karaoke is all about having fun, and what better to make fun of that that? I start off and Chase takes over the lead somewhere around halfway through the first verse. When he starts singing, I'm struck. This boy can sing. I mean really sing. Like Howie Day, Gavin DeGraw, Damien Rice sing. Oh my gosh. Like, when I think he can't get any sexier. Me, I've got a decent voice myself, but nothing like this. Nothing that would win me American Idol.

I join him on the chorus. We finish up the song, complete with exaggerated gestures and dance moves. The crowd applauds, especially our group in the back, and we bow theatrically. Then Chase grabs my hand and leads me of stage. We were pretty damn good.

When we get back to our group, they're all in a commotion trying to get Sophie Walker to sing, who've they've discovered has something of a voice. She won't, though. Not by herself at least. The girl's too shy, doesn't like the attention. People like this annoy me. They just ought to do what everyone wants them to in the first place and have it over with. All this lingering over the convincing part just makes people pester them more. It's like passive-aggressive attention seeking. At least I seek my attention outright.

"I'll sing with you," Chase says suddenly. Sophie and I both look at him in surprise. Stupid hero. Always doing the chivalrous thing.

"Okay..." she says, a little unsurely, and he leads her away.

I'm seething. I'm jealous. Over a guy. And a guy who doesn't even like the girl I'm jealous of.

Yes, okay. I am going crazy.

They pick a more serious song than Chase and I did—"And I Will Always Love You." Sophie Walker starts it, and damn she can sing too. Now we've got a Jewell in the house. I'm feeling slightly deflated.

Christian's been edging towards me ever since Sophie got up to sing, and suddenly he's throwing himself into the seat beside me. "You look good tonight, Becka," he says. It comes out like a sigh, a concession, a truce. I'm not even sure why Christian and I are on such rocky terms. But he apparently feels there's a need for reconciliation and he's willing to take the first step.

"Thanks," I reply, not sure what else I can say. Of course Sophie Walker is belting out "And I will always love you" (with Chase, I might add), and this is somewhat distracting. Christian notices me wince when she nails a power note and he starts to smile slightly, as if he's trying to hold a laugh inside of him.

"What?" I glower, though I'm almost laughing too. This is what Christian does—he shows me how ridiculous I'm being and makes me laugh about it.

"Nothing!" he says, looking at me like he can't imagine what I think he's thinking. I roll my eyes. "You were good, too." he adds.

"Right," I scoff.

"Definitely more fun, anyway, and that's what it's all about, right?"

"I know," I say, nodding my agreement. He can be really sweet sometimes, Christian can. We chat for the next few minutes, comfortably if somewhat less animatedly than usually. Then Chase and Sophie are done with their song and headed back towards our group. Christian stands up to relinquish his seat to Chase, but before he goes he says to me, "Take care of yourself, Becka."

"Okay," I say, though I'm profoundly confused. I don't know at all what he means by that.

So that's what I think about the rest of the night. I'm thinking about it so much that I miss other important things.

Here's one: when we're walking back out to the cars I'm lagging behind a little. Taylor takes the opportunity, therefore, to interrogate Chase. About me, I think, if I'm judging her body language right. I don't hear much of the conversation. I do hear my name mentioned. And then I hear this from Chase: "Yeah, but her and Christian?" It's definitely a question. Me and Christian. Me and Christian what?

I observe all this, of course, but I don't take it in. Nothing registers, like that Chase might still think Christian and I have something going on. I'm too busy pondering this take-care-of-yourself business. What could he mean?

And then I get it. Christian sees I'm walking away, and he's letting me go.


	13. All of Us Playing Games

A/N: Hello folks! Right now I'm on a high from THE EAGLES BEING THE ONLY PERFECT TEAM IN THE NFL (!!!!) so I figured I'd finish this chapter off. (I'm a walking paradox aren't I? Football/Jane Austen fanatic...)

**Lola - **to answer your question, sort of. Christian is based on Jane Austen's Mr. Knightly, of course, but my great inspiration for him is a guy named Luke who I've known for basically forever. Yeah, the conversation in the prologue thing is actually one I had with him. :o)

Also, _please _review. Feedback. I need feedback (I'm easily discouraged). So if you're reading this, let me know. :o) Thanks guys!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I'm happily surprised when a familiar face shows up in Ancient Classics—a new transfer student from Europe, Dr. McClarty announces.

Also known as my good friend Chase Everhart. He spots me and grins, then heads in my direction. I sit at the end of a row, and usually Christian lands in the seat next to me. But I don't protest when Chase slides into this spot. In fact, I welcome him.

A few minutes later Christian walks into the classroom. He starts towards me then notices his seat is taken. By Chase. Chase asks me, referring to Christian, "He's an English major?"

"No," I answer with half my brain since the other half is concentrated on watching my former best friend. "An honors student. They make them all take this class." Christian has stopped now. He nods, eyes looking directly into mine. I duck my head to let my blond hair fall in front of my face and hide it. For some reason, I can't help but be guilty about this Chase thing, even though I don't feel I'm doing anything wrong. That's why I look away.

When I glance back up Christian has moved on. He's sitting in the second row next to Julie Lazlo, and he doesn't look back once at me.

This marks the beginning of the falling out between Christian and I. Two weeks go by just like this. I stop calling. He stops showing up at my apartment. We ignore each other in the two classes we have together. We don't play our usual five-o'clock-Wednesday game of racquetball. He resigns as my Chemistry tutor. I avoid him at parties. A girl named Lucy who's a friend of his or mine (I don't remember) asks me if we broke up. I wonder whether to explain to her that we were never dating. That seems too complicated. I just say yes.

We aren't best friends anymore. That's it. We just aren't friends.

But things change right? I mean, that's okay.

Isn't it?

Besides, I find ways to fill up the time. I've got someone new to spend it with. Chase and I become somewhat inseparable during these two weeks. We call each other constantly, waste all our evenings together, and flirt pretty shamelessly where ever we are. That's how Jen puts it, actually. Jen, imagine Jen saying something like that—that Chase and I flirt shamelessly. I've grown her up. Taught her well.

"But me and Christian always flirted," I argue.

"Yeah, you and Christian," she shrugs, as if me-and-Christian was just this fact that everyone recognized. "But even you and him were never _this _bad. You flirted a lot yet were somehow still accessible to everybody else. You and Chase get pretty...closed up," she finishes, illustrating 'closed up' for me by outlining a box shape with her hands.

Whatever.

Racquetball, actually, is a class they teach at this college. One which I'm taking in order to finally fulfill those PE credits I've been putting off. Having missed my weekly game with Christian twice in a row, I'm way behind on my practice time. And I've got no one else to make it up with. Christian is the only person I know who knows how to play. There is, of course, one logical thing to do.

I don't do it. I call Chase instead.

"Racquetball," I repeat. "Ever heard of it?"

"No," he says.

Damn. "You know in _Ever After_ where the prince guy is playing that game with some other guy? They're like hitting a ball against a wall?"

"Okay, some vague memories are surfacing."

"Well it's like that. Only no net. And four walls. And you're trying to hit the front wall, not the side one."

"How is this at all like the game in _Ever After_?" he questions.

"It's not. Meet me at the gym at six?"

"Will we still be friends if I don't?"

"Probably not."

"Good."

"Does that mean you're coming?" I ask.

'No, it's means I'm not," he answers, laughing at his own witticism.

"Har, har, har," I mutter. "I'd better see you at six."

"The things I do for you," he grumbles.

"Oh yeah, my hero."

"See you at six."

He does show up, just like I knew he would. "You mean you play this game in a little room like this?" he asks, when I take him to the court. "What if you're claustrophobic?"

"Are you?" I ask, not that I would let him off the hook if he was. The room isn't _that _small.

"No. I said what if _you're _claustrophobic. As in you." I roll my eyes. "Explain to me again the basics," he continues.

"Hit the ball that way," I say, gesturing towards the front wall with my racquet.

"Wow. You're an awesome coach."

"You can serve first," I reply cheerily.

"Right," he grumbles, making his way to the service box. He looks back at me to say, "You know, I think you've got a slight advantage here."

I laugh. "Just serve."

He does. And actually turns out to be a pretty useful player. He's not as hard as Christian, but he catches on quicker than I imagined he would. I finally grind it out of him that he knows tennis pretty well, which is somewhat similar. After a half an hour of play we're both a little sweaty and both really into it. At least I think we're both into it. Chase is apparently into other things. He hits one ball to the opposite side of the court from me—where he is—and when I try to run after it he ends up in my way.

"Hey," I pout, leaning against the wall to catch my breath for a moment. "You made me miss."

"Oops," he grins. He's standing a little in front of me, one hand on the wall beside me. Suddenly I'm acutely aware of the close proximity of our bodies, and the sexual tension that we've been building up for weeks.

I don't know who leans into it first, but suddenly we're kissing. I mean, really kissing. He puts his other hand against the wall on my other side so that he's completely surrounding me, leaning me against the wall. I don't do anything with my hands at first, but then I reach them up around his neck. This is the point where I start laughing. Chase leans away, a little confused.

"This is so disgusting," I say, wiping his sweat off my fingers and onto his shirt.

Then he laughs too, but his laugh is a little stiff. Now I'm confused. It's the kind of thing the Chase I've been flirting furiously with for two weeks would find funny.

"Right," he says, taking a few steps back. He glances at his watch. "Thirty five minutes enough practice time for you?" he asks.

"Sure," I say as if that really is okay. But inside I'm panicking. What is going on? Why is he running out on me like this?

"Good, because I should probably shower before I go to work tonight." he says. Then he adds in an attempt to return to our usual playfulness, "You should probably shower too. You're pretty disgusting."

I don't react and the joke falls flat. "I'll see you, Chase," I say, and I let him leave. I walk back to my car wondering who I have to talk to about this.

West?—well obviously not.

Taylor?—mmm, no not her either. She too biased.

Jen?—no, biased also, although she apparently swings the other way.

Christian. If only I were talking to Christian.

I end up telling Jeremy the story who says that's what I get for trying to disrupt everyone's social circles. That's all that comes of relationships, you know. Then he adds, "I don't know, Becka, maybe you're just overanalyzing things. You tend to do that."

He's probably right. I'll wait and see how Chase is tomorrow.

Chase, tomorrow, is his usual self—all jokes and no awkwardness. He plops down beside me in Ancient Classics and proceeds to harass me about my outfit, my hair, the two-point higher grade he got on his test, anything and everything. I don't know what I can do. He's back in character and obviously not planning on discussing our make-out session in the racquetball courts. Just when we're leaving class, though, he says to me, "Hey Becka, friends right?"

"Of course!" I say, as if I can't imagine we would ever be anything else (or more).

"Good, because it's bad karma to rush into things," he says matter-of-factly.

Which explains everything. I think. Either way, I forgive him. He sees that I'm smiling now for real, and resumes his role as my opponent in wit.

"I like the benefits, by the way," he says.

I'm laughing. "Chase Everhart!" I scold, but he takes off before I can get the last word in.

But this is what I mean by we're dangerous.

- - - - - - -

"You never asked me who bought Sophie Walker the piano."

I'm eating lunch with Taylor at Taco Bell. I knew she had something particular to say.

"I never believed you knew," I answer nonchalantly. 

She wrinkles her nose at my sarcasm. "Chase is rubbing off on you," she says. Then she waits for me to ask her the question she so desperately wants to answer. I don't give in. "Oh come on!" she says. "You're not even the least bit curious to hear my theory?"

"Maybe the least bit," I admit. "Alright, give it to me."

"Christian."

"What about him?" I ask. I don't get it.

"He gave her the piano!" Taylor exclaims, frustrated by my daftness.

I just stare at her. Unbelievable. No really, unbelievable. I mean that in the Webster's- dictionary sense of the word. "Taylor. Are you crazy?" I ask, after my moment of shocked silence passes.

"What do you think he's been doing these past two weeks anyway?" she asks, insulted that I'm not convinced.

"Pining over my loss?" I ask hopefully, though I think I know what's coming.

"He's been with Sophie Walker almost as much as you've been with Chase. And I only say almost because it's really impossible to be with someone as much as you're with Chase. I'm not even with West as much as you're with Chase."

Sophie and Christian? Sophie and _Christian_? No way. No, no way. "I don't believe it." I say.

"Which part?" Taylor asks. "Because you and Chase really do spend an awful lot of time together."

"Sophie and Christian, Taylor!" The girl is easily sidetracked. "I don't believe it. There is no way he likes her."

"Oh, I think he more than likes her," Taylor says, as if she's an authority on the subject. The panic is progressing into full blown terror now. I don't know why. I haven't spoken one word to Christian for over two weeks. I'm caring way too much about this.

But my best friend and _Sophie Walker_?! It can't be true. It better not be true.


	14. Several Disturbing Encounters

A/N: Sadly, the Eagles lost (were pummeled, actually) to the Stealers last Sunday. But somehow I have pulled myself out of my depression and written another chapter.

**Jill – **Luke is a long story and not part of this one. Let's just say that 1) his sister hates me, 2) he liked my cousin for a while, 3) after several strained conversations last year I denied having any interest whatsoever beyond friendship and 4) now we are going to colleges in different states. Life goes on. I see him during breaks and we flirt enough to make his sister hate me more. And I don't like him anymore. Just friends.

Nice story, huh?

By the way, sorry about the Chase bit in there last chapter, but don't worry! It all works out in the end (as you all know). And I do plan on making Chase slightly more likable than he appears to be at the moment. Here. Christian's in this chapter. Everyone be happy.

Also, being the review whore that I am, I always want more (hint, hint). You know what to do...

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I think we need to talk to West." I say. Usually I'd be the one to talk to if you want information about Christian, but since I'm apparently out of the loop, West is our next best bet. "Where is he?"

"At his apartment?" Taylor shrugs. She's all calm and serene, like she can't see what a crisis this is.

"Come on," I say, Grabbing her by the arm and basically dragging her out of Taco Bell. Taylor is smug the whole way to West's, while I'm working myself into an emotional frenzy. When we get there I whip open the door and charge inside. West is spreading cream cheese on a bagel, and raises his eyebrows when he witnesses my dramatic entrance. I head to the couch and sit down as Taylor follows me inside.

"Ladies," says West, wandering out to his living room. "What's going on?"

"Becka is having an emotional breakdown," says Taylor and she rolls her eyes.

"About... Chase?" West ventures cautiously.

"I am not having an 'emotional breakdown,' _Taylor,_" I say to her, emphasizing her name for good measure. Then to West: "I am having a 'crisis.'" Now the record is set straight. "And about Christian," I further clarify.

West has been looking frightened of what was coming up to this point, but when he hears I'm only talking about Christian his face relaxes into relief. This is familiar territory. Since freshman year when we all met in Comp class, the four of us have been a sort of circle of truth. I've spent plenty of time complaining about Christian to Taylor, or about Taylor to West, or about everything else to Christian. We're all used to counting on each other like this. West sits down on the floor facing me and Taylor takes a seat beside him. I feel like I'm in therapy.

"Okay. What's the crisis?" West asks.

Taylor answers for me. "I told her I think Christian and Sophie Walker are in the process of hooking up."

"Which is ridiculous!" I burst. "Tell her it's ridiculous!"

"It's certainly an interesting speculation," West muses. I'm biting off my thumbnail. West, who along with Christian hates when I do this, hands me half of his bagel to stop me.

"Yes, but completely ridiculous," I repeat, hoping he'll just agree with me so I can be comfortable with life in general again. But he doesn't.

"I don't know, Becka. They have been seeing an awful lot of each other, now that I think about. She's around like you used to be before, well... Chase."

"But that doesn't mean anything, necessarily," I argue. "I mean, it's not like he ever wanted to date me." Ha ha ha. Good thinking, Becka. Take that Taylor.

"Right. It doesn't mean anything necessarily. But he does act like with her like he acted with you. Maybe slightly less dynamic. I think—" he pauses for a moment, then continues on a different track. "You know, he _was_ tragically in love with you sophomore year."

"He was?" I ask like I don't believe it. Which I don't.

"He was?!" Taylor echoes.

"Sure," West says to his girlfriend. "I can't believe you missed that one. I mean, Becka generally wanders around in a state of oblivion, but it was pretty obvious."

That is so weird. Christian liked me sophomore year. But he doesn't anymore. And that is totally not the point here. "Okay, but I'm not talking about two years ago. I'm talking about now and I still don't think that proves anything about Sophie Walker."

"Why do you care so much anyway?" Taylor asks suspiciously.

Why do I care so much? "Because. I. Hate her," I answer. "West?" I plead, hoping for an answer I'm going to like.

He says, "I think you should talk to Christian."

Wrong answer. "I doubt he'll tell me anything, knowing I hate her and all."

"I think you should talk to Christian," West repeats, "for more reasons than that." He says that very seriously and we're all quiet afterwards. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think. I don't know what I'm doing right or wrong or anything anymore.

"You know you kind of haven't been around," West adds after a moment.

I shrug. I can't argue with that. But I don't want to talk about it. "What do you think about Sophie?" I say deliberately, evenly.

West sighs, seeing that I'm not giving any. So he gives a little. "I'll say this. Either Sophie is sort of replacement you, or he does like her, or he's trying to really piss you off. But that would be pretty out of character with him, so I'd say it's either A or B."

"And I say it's B," says Taylor. I'm ready to bite her head off. The girl is not helping. But Chase sees my impending rage and interferes.

"And if he does like her, Becka, let him have that. It was bound to happen eventually—one of was going to find someone you liked better than the other. You found Chase. Maybe Christian found Sophie. It's kind of good that it happened for both of you at once. No one gets left behind."

Maybe. Depending on your definition of good, that is.

"I'll talk to Christian," I say. West is satisfied.

- - - - - - - -

Chase, Taylor and I have a study date tonight. We meet in front of Right Hall, but I decide I'm hungry, so we run to the caf for take-out. But on our way out I spot Christian. He's sitting at one of the four-person tables, the ones by the windows, buried in his calculus text book, one hand pushing the hair out of his face. Seeing him there startles me almost—he's like this familiar stranger. I nudge Taylor and gesture with my head towards him. "Let's get this over with," I say.

"Right now?" she asks, glancing meaningfully at Chase.

"Chase," I say. He's a few steps ahead and turns around. "Taylor and I have to talk to Christian real quick."

Taylor looks doubtful at the words 'real quick.' Chase looks from me to her then back to me like he's trying to figure out what's going on. I think he gets he's not invited.

"Just real quick," I repeat.

"Yeah, sure," says Chase, snapping out of it. "I wanted to talk to Amy Richards anyway, who's right there, so just come get me when you guys are done."

"Thanks," I say gratefully. "Come on," I instruct Taylor, pushing her in front of me. For some reason I'm really nervous.

Christian looks up when Taylor sets her take-out container on the spot beside him. "Hey Taylor," he says, eyes returning to his book. Then he notices another container in the spot across from him. He looks up to see me. He doesn't say anything, just looks down at his book again for a minute like he's making a decision. Then he shuts it, and looks back up.

"Beka," he says as a greeting.

"Howdy stranger!" I answer cheerfully. That's how I'm going to play this: perky and cheerful and light.

"Stranger indeed," says Christian, smiling very, very slightly—the kind of smile you don't notice unless you really know a person. I take it as encouragement and plough recklessly ahead.

"Hey," I say, keeping the laugh in my voice. "You've got nothing to complain about. I hear you've been... keeping yourself busy..." I leave that one open-ended, hoping he'll catch my meaning.

He narrows his eyes and studies me. "What are you saying Becka Hanson?" he asks suspiciously.

"Nothing," I answer with a shrug. Different attack now: "Wasn't it nice of someone to buy Sophie Walker a piano?"

"Receiving gifts is one of those love language things, you know," Taylor adds, helping me along with the interrogation.

"Mmm," I nod. "And probably Sophie's love language. Someone knows her pretty well, I'd say." I glance meaningfully at Christian. Then I ask him, "What do you think, anyway?"

"I think someone was too pleased with themselves to anticipate all the gossip that piano's been causing. Stupid thing to do, really," Christian answers.

Well, at least he's not the secret piano lover. I look at Taylor who shrugs. It still doesn't answer everything.

"She's getting enough negative attention already without the piano," Christian adds. That comment, off course, is directed towards me and I feel a sharp pang of guilt. But I press onward. Questions must be answered.

"She seems to get plenty of attention from you," I say.

Up till now I don't think he really realized what I've been driving at. Now that I've said it outright he just stares at me. Then he looks at Taylor who's looking at him the same way I am—very intently. Waiting for an answer.

"You guys are double teaming me. That is so not fair," he says finally.

"Just answer the question, Christian," I say a little impatiently.

"There was no question." He's a little irritated himself.

"Fine. Are you in love with Sophie Walker?"

"I'm not," he says. Taylor, at least, doesn't believe him. "I'm not!" he repeats. "God, you two are impossible." He slumps back in his seat.

"I don't know, Becka, should we let him off the hook?" Taylor asks.

Looking at Christian—slouched back in his chair like that, arms folded across his chest, obviously a little cross—I can't help but smile. Poor boy. "I believe him," I say. "Come on, let's go, Taylor. Our homework awaits us." Christian doesn't like Sophie Walker. The world is once again at right.

Taylor gets up and leads the way towards Chase, and I start to follow. But Christian catches my arm as I'm passing him. "Hey," he says. "I haven't seen much of you lately." There's a little desperation in his voice. It makes me guilty again.

I don't like to feel guilty. Like this bitch who drops her best friend as soon as there's a new guy in town. Because that's not me. And that's not what I'm doing here is it? I decide to play this lightly again. "Yeah," I answer. "We should make a date sometime. Um... I'm pretty busy this week but maybe... next Tuesday?"

"Next Tuesday," he says, sounding almost devastated. He drops my arm.

Taylor, who's been standing by all this time, says quickly, "I'm... going to go get Chase."

"I'll meet you guys," I say. She nods and hurries away.

"Next Tuesday, Becka?" Christian repeats again, this time as a question and with more anger than devastation. He knows he deserves better than that. I know he deserves better than that. I'm just not sure I can do better than that. Taking it from the blank expression on my face that I'm not going to give any here, he shakes his head. Then he picks up his tray and his book and he stands up, saying, "You know what? Forget it Becka. I'm not going to just take what I can get." He starts to walk away.

Oh no. I don't think so. "You haven't talk to me either, Christian, for the past to weeks."

He whips around, and laughs. Not a fun laugh but one of those mean, ironic sorts. "I haven't talked to _you_?! How am I supposed to, Becka? You're like Everhart's lap dog these days. Don't even try to make this about me."

"I don't even know what this is!" Our voices are growing louder

"You don't know what this is," he says dryly and quieter. He sets his tray back on the table, along with his book. "Well let me put it this way. Friendship is reciprocal. You know what that means? It means one person is not always taking the first step. I, Becka, I am _always _taking the first step here. Now I know you pretty well, and I'm pretty sure the Everhart obsession will wear off sooner of later, but I'm not going to be waiting around. Okay? I'm not going to be sitting on the edge of my seat the whole time your in Chase-land waiting for you to get bored and come wanting me. But when you do get bored, you take the first step. And maybe I'll see if I can fit you in my schedule."

During this discourse, I've turned from a girl to a statue. I can't get anything out of my mouth when he's done. I can't even move.

Christian picks up his tray and turns to go, but he turns around one more time. "I deserve better than this," he says, and then he walks away. I don't know if he said that to me or to himself.

Finally I snap out of it and slowly begin making my way to where Taylor and Chase are sitting. By the time I get there I've pretty much shaken it off. At least for now, that's what I need to do.

"What was that all about?" Chase asks curiously as we exit the cafeteria.

"Nothing," I say. Not true off course. He looks at me skeptically, but I just shrug. I don't expect him to believe me. I just want him to let it slide. Suddenly having the thought it my head, I pull my cell phone out of my purse and begin pressing buttons.

"Watcha doing?" Chase asks.

"Wait," I tell him. A moment later when I'm done I hold the phone up for him to see. "Ta-da! You're on speed dial!"

He rolls his eyes. "Super, Becka," he chuckles. "Who's place did I take?"

"Nobody's," I lie.


	15. Elton's Other Half

A/N: A HUGE thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers. You guys are awesome. And because you're all so awesome, look what I've done! Another chapter! Now, I haven't proofread this one (something I've actually been trying to do lately). But I don't/won't have time before Thanksgiving break, and then I'll be home chillin' with my homies so I definitely won't be working on this. Therefore, it was either post the chapter with the typos, or wait two weeks until I have time to fix them and post it then. So I chose typos. Hope there aren't too too many.

Keep reviewing!! Much love to all of you and happy Thanksgiving!

- - - - - - - - -

After our three-week-long relationship, here's what I know about Chase:

He's an only child. (Unfortunate, yes. I am of the opinion that only children are one of the major downfalls of modern society. However, Chase must obviously be an exception to this rule.)

He has some aunt who he's never met but apparently has control over his "fortune" and will cut him off if he doesn't marry a girl with "social status." (Spent considerable time discussing what exactly social status entails, finally decided he will have to shoot for either an Olson twin or a Bush Twin. Of course we both know he's really shooting for me.)

He eats his grilled cheese with ketchup.

He listens to crappy music. (Like Avril Lavigne. He listens to Avril Lavigne. Yuck.)

He hates Sophie Walker.

He likes me.

Maybe that's not a lot. To be honest, Chase really says very little about himself. He generally lets me do the talking. But there are some things that I—me, the ultimate extrovert—to feel completely comfortable discussing with him. For instance, Christian. I don't mention Christian. So I guess we're even in the not-sharing-too-much area, but that just keeps things interesting. That's what I say anyway.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Jen is still in love with Elton. All this Chase and Sophie business had obscured the issue for a time, but now things are coming around full circle. We've managed to avoid the boy pretty successfully since that night. Now, however, his new girlfriend is throwing him a half-birthday party, and for some odd reason Jen and I are invited.

(It was my idea, the half-birthday thing. I did this last year, feeling how unfair it was for Elton who's birthday is in the summer and never gets celebrated. This year, the girlfriend has changed, but the tradition apparently lives on.)

Jen can't go. She freaks out as soon as I mention Elton, let alone our party invite. There's no way she could keep it together for a whole evening. Unfortunate, as I would love some back-up on this occasion. Why _did _I ever talk her into liking this guy? Why, why, why?

West and Taylor will also not be attending the party, as they have "previous engagements," which seems suspect to me. And who knows about Christian.

"It doesn't matter that you've never met him," I assure Chase when I'm explaining the situation to him. "You can still come. you can be, like, my date or something."

"Ah, I see," Chase answers knowingly. "You just want to bring a guy to the ex-boyfriend's party. I can see right through you, Becka Hanson."

I roll my eyes. "No," I moan. "But if I've got to suffer through this someone had best suffer with me. Come on. Please, please, please?"

"Well, I would," he says. "But I'm actually going to be in New Hampshire this weekend."

New Hampshire? "What for?" I ask.

"The inheritance aunt is sick and it is apparently my duty to sit by her bed and earn brownie points."

"That's so irreverent," I scold.

"And yet such an accurate portrayal of what I'll be doing."

Hmmm. It's no fun either way. "How long will you be gone?" I ask.

Chase shrugs. "Hopefully less than a week."

That's not encouraging. "A week?!" I complain. "What exactly am I supposed to do with myself for a week?"

"Miss me horribly and languish in self pity," he answers, smiling roguishly. "Anyway, just don't go to the party," he adds.

"I have to," I answer solemnly. "Nobody else is going and someone has to represent the group. Thus the duty falls to me."

Chase shakes his head, laughing at me seriousness. "Well, then go and suffer." I scowl. "You'll be fine. You have Christian," he says.

Ha ha ha. Now there's a good one. As far as Christian is concerned, I've got nothing.

- - - - - - - - - -

I've never me the new girlfriend (Amelie? Amanda? America? What was her name?), but already I don't' like her. And no, this is not because of any latent Elton attachments, in case anyone is jumping to conclusions. It's that not only has the girl stolen my whole half-birthday idea, she stole my theme from last year too. And she's making like the whole thing is her brilliant plan. Damn her.

The natural theme for a half birthday party is haves. In other words, you come dressed half as one thing and half as another. That's what I cam up with last year. I've got a good outfit this time around. From head to toe I'm warring: tiara with elaborate hairstyle, soccer jersey, large prom-type skit, cleats. Prom Queen Soccer Girl. It's much more creative than the over used bikini-top-ski-pants gig. It's amazing how many girls just want to dress scantily.

But here's what I'm really wondering: how long do I have to stay?

When I step out of the car, holding the prom skit above my cleats, I've got a tentative game plan. Which a happy half-birthday to Elton, meet the new girlfriend (what _is _her name?), run. I haven't talked to Elton since leaving my finger indentions on his face and I'm wondering how awkward this is going to be.

I wish Chase was here. I wish I was talking to Christian.

He's here, by the way, dressed as a half-cowboy-half-Indian. (Outfit includes: boots, jeans, chaffs. He's shirtless, with what I'm guessing is war-paint smeared across his chest and face, and with a couple of feather tied around his head.) I want to cross the room and loop my arm around his waist and have him laugh with me about why was I invited?

I can't though. I spot Elton and instead I cross the room towards him.

"Hey, happy half-birthday!" I say cheerfully, giving him a somewhat-stiff side-hug.

"Becka," he says. "Good to see you."

Right. I'm sure that's what we're all thinking.

"So have you met Amy? My girlfriend?" he continues.

Amy. Of course. "No," I smile, turning to the girl next to him and shaking her hand. "Hi, I'm Becka."

"I know," she says proudly, as if she expects a trophy for that. Amy is wearing a bikini and ski pants. Gag me. Her hair is set into loose-Jessica-Simpson curse, and died a fakey-red color. I try to thing of something nice to say.

"So," I begin after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. "So Amy. I hear you're... musical," I finish lamely. It's about all I've heard about her. Amy, however, is apparently able to take up any conversation regarding herself with great alacrity.

"Well," she begins, feigning that kind of humility that is so obviously not humble. "I wouldn't say so myself. All I know is that my _friends _say I've got more than a little bit of talent."

You mean she has friends? I'm all in awe.

"In fact, I told my parents when they moved me down here into my apartment—which is considerable smaller than what I'm used to, off course. We have a six-bedroom house, you know—that I didn't mind living in such a smaller place because I'm blessed with so many internal resources, you know?"

No. I don't know. I don't have any idea what she's talking about. But I can't think of anything smart to say that might make stop the tide of her talking.

"But I said I could absolutely not live without music, and so they bought me a piano. You know—"

At this point even Elton looks a little pained. (Ha ha ha. Serves him right, going for the "rich girls" as Christian put it.) He breaks in, changing the subject to something that will hopefully exclude Amy from the conversation.

"Good poem you wrote in Creative Writing on Friday, Becka."

"Thanks," I answer and I'm about to say more, but he Amy girl starts up again.

"I write a little myself, you know. And I wouldn't call it good. All I know is my friends think it's really quite excellent."

God. Shoot me. Make her stop. I start looking desperately around the room for someone. Anyone. And there's Christian leaning against the way a little ways away. I think he's listening. I think he's laughing at me.

Christian. Well. You know what they say about desperate times.

"Well, it was good to meet you Amy," I say a bit abruptly. "And happy half-birthday again, Elton. I've got to go talk to Christian. I'll see you guys around." And I turn to make my escape.

"Oh Christian!" Amy says, and I'm forced to turn around again. I feel like crying. Or screaming. Or both. "Christian, the one you're sort of pseudo-dating," she keeps going.

I shoot a look a Elton who must have told her this. He won't really look at me, pretending to be distracted with something else. Obviously somebody's out of the loop. I've got me a new pseudo-boyfriend.

"I just me him," she continues, "Really very nice." She says that like she was surprised to find out he was nice. Probably thinks that anybody who would pseudo-date me is either deranged or at least seriously questionable.

"Yes. Well. He is nice," I say. "And like I said, I've really got to go talk to him, so I'll catch you guys later."

Before the insufferable woman can get another word out, I take off, shooting past Christian and right out the door.

- - - - - - - - - -

During the few days Chase is gone, I'm not sure what to do with myself. Sure, I have Jen and Taylor and West and at least seven guys I could call right now and get dates. But none of that seems to add up to something substantial. Like, it's not enough for me anymore. I don't know why. I've always gotten along without Chase just fine, and I don't know why I can't do it now.

I'm lonely. I realize it two days after Chase's been gone. Becka Hanson, social butterfly, is actually lonely.

It must be Chase's fault. I must miss him a lot.


	16. A Heroic Return and My First Step

A/N: sorry, shorter chapter this time, but v. necessary (hurray! becka is getting smarter!). once again, all of you wonderful reviews rock.

**schizoidmastermind: **of course there will be a dance scene! just wait… mwhahahaha.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"And this new girlfriend he's got—oh my word, she's absolutely horrid. Horrid, Jen. All she does is talk about herself and how great she is and you know how she tries to pull it off? She'll be like, 'Well, _I _don't think I'm that great, but my _friends _all say I'm totally awesome.' It's disgusting."

Jen and I are driving back from the mall after some shopping therapy (we both needed it). All day I've been going off about how much I hate Amy—partly because I do really hate her, and partly because it's probably nice for Jen to hear how awful she is. You always like to hear bad things about he competition. Especially if they've won.

"So you know what I did?" I ask, finally coming to the part that I haven't been able to come to yet. "I invited them to the Halloween party," I admit, a little sheepishly.

Jen looks at me all horrified. "Becka!" she cries. "Why did you do that?!"

"I had to!" I defend myself. "If I didn't, everyone would've seen right away how much I hate her. Besides, they probably would've come anyway. And it's not like I want them there either. Maybe we'll get lucky and they won't show."

"Whatever." Jen is frowning. I am frowning. Elton and Amy are a real pain.

Suddenly the car bumps and jerks like we hit something. "Crap!" Jen yells, pulling over to the side of the road. We get out of the car and examine the damage. Her front right tire is shredded. And smoking, actually.

"What did you hit?" I ask, a little amazed by the tire's complete mutilation.

"I dunno," says Jen.

Neither do I. I'm looking back at the road, and it appears to be pretty clear. Maybe we went off the road. Who knows. It doesn't really matter, I suppose.

Sighing, I sit down on the curb, and Jen sits down beside me. "Who can we call?" I ask rhetorically, as I pull out my cell phone and begin scrolling through the long list of names in my phone book.

"Christian?" says Jen, which pisses me off. Because she knows Christian and I have had our sort-of falling out. I ignore the suggestion and keeping looking at my phone.

"We could call… Jeremy. But he's working. West maybe? I'll try him," I say, pressing 'send.' I'm still waiting for West to pick up when a car pulls over behind ours. So I'm not paying attention until the person who's stepped out of the car says, "Ladies." Then I look up, and a smile slowly spreads across my face.

"Right on time, Chase Everhart," I say, grinning and putting down the cell phone. Beside me, Jen is beaming up at him too. Our hero. The man who is going to change our tire.

I raise my hands to him and he pulls me up and into a hug. "How was New Hampshire?" I ask, as he releases me from the embrace.

"Boring as hell."

"Did you miss me terribly?" I tease.

"Of course," he answers. "How was the half-birthday gig?"

"About the same as New Hampshire. So you are going to change our tire, right?"

He laughs. "You're telling me that neither of you," he looks from me to Jen, "knows how to do that?"

I look at Jen who looks at me, then we both laugh. "Yeah, pretty much," says Jen.

"But we're more than happy to watch you work," I add, sitting back down beside Jen.

Chase grumbles something, and then he starts working. I let him talk to Jen mostly while he changes the tire. I've got a few things to think about, so I'm happy to take a backseat in the conversation. First of all, the lonely feeling has been dispelled, at least temporarily, upon seeing Chase. Which is exactly what I expected. It means I was right. Apparently this here is what I need. Chase.

Once he's done he follows us to Firestone to get a real tire on Jen's car. They tell us it will take somewhere in between two to three hours. Since we're already down town we decide to see a movie while we wait. The three of us pile into Chase car. I'm riding shotgun, and for the moment, I'm happy.

But gradually as I'm sitting beside him in the movie, and then across the table from him at Panara Bread afterwards, I begin to loose that state of euphoria. The high that kicked in upon seeing Chase wears off way too quickly. Our usual repartee, our flirting, our mutual attraction—none of it is adding up to anything substantial today. I try harder and harder to be happy and normal and into him. I begin overcompensating. I tell him about the Halloween party and we even make it a sort of date.

But it's not working. Why isn't it working? The lonely feeling is back and it's stronger than ever.

That's when I realize it. It's not Chase I've been missing.

It's Christian.

- - - - - - - - -

_Ring. Ring. Ring. _

No. No! He can't not be there. Not now. Come on, pick up.

_Hey, this is Christian,_ his voicemail kicks in.

Shit. I don't want a leave a message. I don't know what to say. But if I hang up he'll know I'll called anyway. So maybe I should leave a message (?!!). Or maybe—

I still haven't decided what to do when the leave-a-message-after-the-beep beep goes off. I have to say something. I rush head long into this:

"Hey Christian!"

My voice is almost frighteningly cheerful.

"So, you know Halloween is this Saturday and you know that means you've got to don some ridiculous costume and come to the party, right? I've kind of already accidentally got a date, but who says a girl can't have two? And, you know, it's not really a date thing, so—"

I realize I'm speaking completely at random and probably not making much sense. And I can't keep up the happy pretext anymore. I drop the act.

"Just come," I sigh into the phone. "Or give me a call, at least. I…miss you. I need to talk to you. So come, okay? Please?"

I'm not sure how to end this off.

"Well, I'll…see you around. I guess." Pause. "Okay, bye."

I hang up the phone and then I stare at it for a minute. That was very likely the worst message I've ever left someone.

But it was something like a first step.


	17. All of Us In Costume

A/N: Some quick notes: First of all, I suddenly felt the need to give all of my chapters titles. Thus, as you may have noticed, they all have titles now. How exciting is that? (Not v. exciting, I know). Second, I just planned out the rest of my chapters and discovered that I am about halfway done with this baby. Hurray. Third, we'll be lucky if I get another update in before the New Year, but I'll try. We'll see. Fourth, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! The more reviews I get the better the _next _chapter we'll be :o)

And off course my usual Eagles update (since I'm sure you all care…): 11-0, baby! Go Eagles!

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Chapter 16

**All of Us in Costume**

From the minute I walk into the party—arm in arm with Chase as it were. We've even got corresponding costumes going on. The theme at the party this year is book or movie characters. He's Han Solo. I'm Lea. Sexy Lea he's been calling me, because my flowing white dress features spaghetti straps and is cropped off at my knees. But with the bun-things, you can definitely tell who I'm supposed to be—Anyway, from the minute I walk in I've got my eyes peeled.

The first person I spot is Jen, who's standing all alone near the wall, and I make my way over to her, Chase following languidly behind me.

"Hey babe," I say, leaning against the wall beside her.

"Hey Becka, Chase." She barely looks at him or me for that matter. She takes a slow sip from her plastic cup, staring intently into the crowd. Chase raises his eyebrows in this what-is-up-with-her look. I shrug. I turn to Jen.

"So. Is Christian here?" I ask rather nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly. Jen assumes I don't care what the answer is and shrugs. Still looking at the mass of people and she says, "Everyone's here. Elton's here. His girlfriend's here."

Aah, I see. Music is starting and Chase is beginning to pulls me away—"Come one, come on. Let's dance"—but I hesitate to leave Jen by herself.

"Find Taylor," I say, as I begin to let Chase pull me away.

"Taylor's with West," says Jen. Naturally.

"Find…Sophie." I can't believe I just said that. Neither can Jen. She wrinkles her nose.

"Find Natalie Banks." It's my last try. Another bad try. But then Chase pulls me into the crowd. I can't stop watching Jen, though. I can't stop watching her all by herself there and feeling terribly guilty.

Then the worst thing in the world happens.

I'm still dancing, still watching, and I see Elton and Amy making their way to where Jen is. She sees them too and her eyes widen. But it's too late—nothing she can do, no where she can go. And here's what this Amy bitch does. She bumps into Jen just right so that her drink spills all over herself. Then the Amy bitch says, "Oh I'm sorry. I didn't notice you there," and she keeps moving. Elton looks possibly a little sympathetic, but he keeps moving too. They leave her standing there, alone and wet now with a small group of people laughing at her.

I want to cry. I want to do something. But Chase is moving me farther away from the scene. What can I do? What _can _I do?

Then the greatest thing happens. This guy dressed in black steps out of the crowd, walks over to Jen. He says something to her and she smiles. I love this guy. This here is a great guy. Then he turns around to lead her to the dance floor, and when I see who it is, I love him more.

Christian.

I want to cry again. I want to run across the room and kiss him. Instead, I throw myself into the dance. Chase notices the change in my attitude and he says, "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Nothing!" I laugh, which is the truth, throwing my arms around his neck in my elation. Christian is here. Christian is dancing with Jen. Christian who hates dancing. He's doing that for my friend. He's doing it for me. He's here.

We dance touching. We dance apart. We dance until I can't dance any longer, and then we stop and mutually drift in opposite directions.

Later, my euphoria has worn off and I'm the one standing by myself against the wall, though for me this is by choice. I haven't seen Christian since he was dancing with Jen and I'm afraid he might have taken off already without saying a word to me. I've got my own plastic cup now, which I am sipping thoughtfully as I survey the room.

Suddenly there is a parting in the mass of people and across the room I see my man in black leaning against the opposite wall. Christian. He raises his cup to me, in a mock toast across the room. His face is expressionless. I don't know what to do.

It doesn't matter, because the crowd moves again and I can't see him anymore. I start to panic. Because I was so close. And what if he disappears again? What if he doesn't really want to talk to me? What if—

The crowd shuffles again. Christina is still there. He breaks into a grin when he sees my panicked expression. I relax into a smile as well, mine a little sheepish. He looks away from me for a moment, then back again, nodding meaningfully toward where he was just looking—the door. I smile more fully and nod my agreement. Then I turn and he turns and we both start in that direction. I pass my cup off to some beyond-drunk girl on my way.

We meet in the doorway. He puts a hand on the small of my back, guiding me past the groups of people hanging around the door. Once we're past them, he slings the arm around my shoulder. It's very comfortable. Very good.

"I'm not Zorro, you know," is the first thing he says to me. "Everyone thinks I'm Zorro, but I'm not."

I smile slightly, looking up at him. "Oh yeah? Who are you?"

"Becka!" he gasps with mock horror. "Of all people you should know! Come on—The Man in Black. _The Princess Bride. _I'm Wesley, girl!"

Now I laugh. "I love it," I say.

"And you," he continues, looking meaningfully down at my bare-bellow-the-knees legs, and raising an eyebrow, "are Sexy Lea."

Another smile. "That's what Chase said," I say.

"Damn," says Christian, "here I thought I was original."

"Oh, trust me," I laugh, rolling my eyes. "You are."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

We've been ambling towards the brick half way that lines the driveway here. When we reach it, I slip from under his arm and sit down, not on the wall but on the driveway, leaning against it. Christian sits down beside me. That was a weird start. Weird as in, we just went back to normal without talking about anything regarding why we have not been normal. We're both quite for a while. Then I start.

"Christian?"

"Hmmm?" he murmurs. His eyes are closed.

"Let's never not talk for a whole month again, 'k?"

Christian smiles and opens his eyes to look down at me. "You started it," he says. Then: "I can probably fit you in next Tuesday."

I wince at that. Deserved it, though. I lean forward and pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. "I am _so _sorry," I say miserably.

"It's okay," Christian says, looping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him. "It doesn't matter."

I sigh and lean back again. Christian was right about one thing. "You were right about one thing," I admit.

"Oh yeah?" Christian begins a slight smile. "What, exactly?"

"When you said that you deserve better than this." I look at him. The smile fades.

"I didn't mean that," he says. He wants to let me off the hook.

"Yes, you did."

"It wasn't true."

"Yes, it was."

He doesn't reply right away. He just sits there staring off across the empty lawn. Then he looks back at me. "Well, I don't care. You can't argue with that," he says with finality. He is _going _to let me off the hook. Whether I like it or not.

I think I like it.

"I can't argue with that," I agree.

Then Taylor bursts onto the scene. "Becka!" she says. She's been looking for me. "There you are. I haven't seen you all night, girl." Then she notices that the guy I'm sitting next to is, in fact, not Chase Everhart. "Christian," she says, obviously surprised.

"Good to see you too, Taylor," Christian grins.

"No," Taylor says. "I mean good. Good, you two are friends again. _Finally_." She rolls her eyes. "Anyway, she turns back to me. "They're closing up shop in there, so you'd best get in there and dance the last dance at least."

"I'm coming," I say.

Taylor narrows her eyes like she doesn't believe me. Then she says, "You'd better be coming," turns on her heals, and skips back inside.

I push myself off of the ground and start brushing off my dress.

"Who are you going to dance with?" Christian asks from behind me. It's a strange question coming from him. I was going to dance with Chase, but now that he's asked I've got a better idea.

I turn to face him, placing my hands on my hips. "Christian Lewis. I'm surprised you've got the nerve to even ask me that question. After all these years of making excuses, Mr. Sorry-but-I-don't-dance, it turns out you've been lying to me all along."

"I take it, you saw that with Jen," he says, smiling sheepishly.

"I'd say you owe me a dance," I reply.

Christian makes a being deal about acting like this is such a pain in the ass, but he's ginning. "Come on, cowboy," I say, reaching my arms down and pulling him up. He grumbles all the way to the dance floor, but he so obviously doesn't mind at all having to dance with me. It's a fast song. For all his complaining, Christian is surprisingly good at this dancing thing. It's a great dance. When the music switches to something slow, I turn to leave. "I guess we're even now," I say. But he catches my arm before I walk away.

"Hey," he says quietly as I face him again, pulling me back towards him. "I probably owe you more dance than one." And he pulls me into his arms. Suddenly I'm having trouble breathing.

"Okay," I whisper, because it's all I can get out. I'm feeling a little dizzy, and I don't think that's due to an impending migraine. I lay my head on Christian shoulder, and as soon as I do something very strange happens. My brain stops working. Like just stops. And there's this feeling in my gut like the feeling you get when you're on a roller coaster about to go down that first big hill.

I try to think about Chemistry or Creative Writing or _When Harry Met Sally _or _The OC_ or Chase or anything, but I've apparently lost my ability to think. So I try and concentrate on the song that's playing. Which is easier, but very unhelpful:

_There's a different feel about you tonight. It's got me thinking lots of crazy things._

Oh God. What is going on? What is wrong with me?

_Everybody swears we make the perfect pair, but dancing is as far as it goes._

I close my eyes very tight and will this—whatever it is, this _feeling_—to go away. It will pass. It will go away.

_You've never moved me quite the way you've moved me tonight._

Becka! Get a grip. You are so not in love with Christian Lewis. God, no. That's impossible. Disgusting, really. No. He's you're best friend. That's all. Just stop. Oh please, please, please let this song end.

It does. Finally. But Christian holds me a minute longer. His lips brush my forehead. I look up at him, startled and a little panicked, and there is definitely something there. Something different. In his eyes.

But as soon as I see it, the moment is gone. Christian is grinning, saying something I'm probably supposed to be laughing at, making his way to the exit, dragging me along with him. He's cheerful, buoyant, _himself. _He's just himself.

I'm going crazy. I'm hallucinating.

"Now Becka," Christina is saying now, "You'd best go find Han Solo before the Millennium Falcon takes off without you."

Yep. Definitely hallucinating.

"Right," I say, very badly wanting for him to be gone.

"I'll be seeing you," he says, and then he disappears.

Hurray. I feel my senses slowly coming back to me. I breath deeply, in and out. I calm myself down.

Chase shows up. "What's wrong with you?" he asks noticing I'm still a little frazzled.

"Nothing," I say. I'm already much better. The feeling is gone, anyway. It was all in my head. I'll shake it off. Chalk it up to an overactive imagination. "Let's go," I say to Chase. Christian and me, that's ridiculous.

I must be watching too many movies.

Yes. That's it.


	18. Morning After

thanx to all my faithful reviews. for you i (and with the help of my starbucks non-fat mocha with rasberry syrup. mmm.)crunched out one more chapter before break.

**ronluver88**: sorry, but it's gonna be a while till they get together… yeah, becka's pretty dense. it's kind of the joy of the _emma _story. :o)

**Marilolo: **thanx for liking my chapter titles (lol)

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Chapter 17

**Morning After**

Jeremy slogs out to the kitchen around ten o'clock on Sunday morning, expecting his usual breakfast of Luck Charms and left over spaghetti. When he sees me, not only already up but already making breakfast, he stops in his tracks and just stares at me.

"Morning Sunshine," I smile, flipping another pancake.

"What is this about?" asks Jeremy. His still fuzzy from sleep but not fuzzy enough that he doesn't remember it takes me being in an awfully good mood to get me up early on a Sunday.

I play dumb. "What's what about?" I say, bringing the plate of pancakes over to the table. Jeremy sinks down into a chair, still eyeing me warily. I smile sweetly at him and wander back into the kitchen for supplies—syrup and peanut butter.

From behind me, Jeremy voices a suspicious question. "Is this sex afterglow? You and Chase? Is he _here_?!" At this idea, he shoots back out of his char and begins glancing around nervously as if Chase might pop out from under the sofa and yell "Surprise!"

"No, no, and_ no_," I answer, as I bring the syrup back, slamming it down on the table with the last 'no' for emphasis. "I just felt like making pancakes."

"Becka," Jeremy begins in his best explaining-something-to-a-small-child voice. "There is enough food here to feed a small army. Surely you did not just feel like making pancakes. Tell me what is going on."

"You're falling off the deep end, Jeremy. Spending too much time by yourself," I answer evasively. I sit down across the table from him. He keeps looking at me skeptically. I wait till he gives up, shrugs, turns his attention to his breakfast. Then I say, very casually as if its not the monumental thing it is, "Christian and I made up last night." And I start eating.

When I look back up, Jeremy has stopped eating and is staring at me again, with an expression I can't read this time. Then he nods slowly. "Of course you did," he says. Its all clear to him now. "Of course you did." He looks around for a moment, then he looks at the piled plated pancakes and he says, "Becka. Who is going to eat all this food?"

I grin. We both know where this is headed. Jeremy slides me my cell phone which was sitting on the table next to him. "Call your boy then," he says, rolling his eyes.

Well. First I put Christian back on speed dial. Then I call him. This time he picks up.

"Howdy stranger."

"I made too much breakfast," I say.

"You made breakfast? Somebody's in a good mood."

"Dude, can't I even make pancakes without the whole word over analyzing it?" I ask laughing.

"Absolutely not, Miss I-never-stpe-into-a-kitchen-unless-I'm-being-threatened-with-knives."

"Somebody needs to come eat my extra pancakes," I say, ignoring that remark. "Where are you?"

"Funny you should ask that," Christian replies. "I'm at your front door."

I biting my bottom lip to keep my smile from growing ridiculously large and cheesy. I got and get him. Jeremy is rolling his eyes again. "Welcome back," he says to Christian when we're walking back into the kitchen.

"I know you'd miss me, Jeremy," Christian replies, sitting himself down and helping himself to some food.

"Actually, I was rooting for Chase," Jeremy says matter-of-factly.

"Actually, me too," Christian agrees. "Still am."

"Actually it's not a competition," I interject dryly.

"Who says?" They both ask at once.

I scowl and them both and groan. "Now I remember why I always hated you two together. You gang up at me."

"Only because you're such an easy target," Christian says, reaching over to attempt to push me off my chair. I duck away from him.

"That's it. You're not invited to breakfast anymore," I say.

"Too late. I'm already here," he grins.

"And what are you going to do about that?" Jeremy adds.

"What _are _you going to do about that?" Christian repeats.

"I poisoned your pancakes," I answer solemnly. You will both die slow and horrible deaths."

Christian looks at Jeremy and sighs. "In which case, Chase wins," he says.

"Which is good for you since you were both on his side anyway," I say cheerfully.

"I thought there weren't sides," Christian says with mock shock and horror. "So there _are _sides," he adds dramatically.

"Okay, now you're twisting my words.

"Like I said, you're an easy target," Christian laughs. Then he continues, "So how's your day shaping up, Becka?" The question I knew would come.

"Mmm," I say with a slight frown. "I think I have to have lunch with Chase." I wrinkle my nose like that's a real chore.

I was expecting some reactions from that confession, but not the ones I get: Jeremy looks up at me sharply and he frowns like he disapproves. Christian, on the other hand, doesn't react at all. He says, to me or to his pancakes (hard to tell), "Hey, don't act like you don't like it on my account. If I get breakfast, Everhart can have lunch. Fair enough." Then he looks up at me and grins, like its all part of the joke.

Jeremy remains solemn—or pensive or thoughtful or whatever the hell it's called when Jeremy gets like this—throughout the rest of breakfast. Doesn't talk much at all, in fact, until Christian leaves. Then he's got plenty to say.

He barely waits for the door to close behind Christian before he starts up at me. "What are you doing, Becka?" he asks, elbows on the table, head in his hands like he just can't believe me.

I really don't think we're on the same page here. For one thing, I've got know idea what Jeremy's talking about, and I'm not playing dumb this time. I pick up the dishes and walk them to the kitchen. I set them in the sink. I ask him. What is he talking about?

"Becka. Darling. You know in my book the whole dating thing is one big mistake to begin with. But if you're going to do it, you could at least play by the rules."

Let me repeat, because I still don't have a clue here: "What are you talking about, Jeremy?" I turn around to face him now, because I'm feeling this (whatever it is) might turn into something of a battle. I cross my arms.

"Oh, come on Becka," he says like he thinks I am playing stupid. When I don't move, just stand their staring at him, he continues. "Okay. The rules, Becka. One guy at a time. Those are the rules in the dating world. I mean, it was look for a while there like it was going to be you and Chase. Which, I have to say, reflected sadly on your judgment but _at least _you'd made a decision."

"I think you're a little off base here, cousin," I say coldly. "I'm not dating anyone. And there are no rules about how many friends a person can have."

"So you're saying—you and Christian are just friends, you and Chase are just friends. You're all just friends,"

I just glare at him. That's exactly what I'm saying. He says, "I'll take that as a yes." Then: "Have you let the boys in on this?"

"Are you saying Christina needs letting in on the fact that he and I are just friends?"

That question hangs in the air for a couple minutes. Jeremy stands up and begins walking across the room. I stand in my place, watching him with my eyes. He stops when he's beside me and says, "Are you saying he doesn't? Think about it, Becka." Then he continues down the hall.

I turn around and begin washing the dishes. I do that about it. I think: that's laughable. And then I think: last night, that dance… And then I stop thinking. Because it doesn't matter. Jeremy's wrong. We are all just friends. And everyone knows it. Christian included. It's fine.


	19. Jen's White Knight and More Dating Advic...

A/N: Happy New Year! This here I call my stream of consciousness chapter. On second reading, it seems a bit disjointed and there's probably a lot in here that's peripheral. But I'm posting it anyway. Because it was hell to write in the first place so there's no way I'm writing it again.

**i-h8-sclub: **sorry about the typos. I'm lazy, but from now on I promise I'll make an effort.

**Jill: **I love Jeremy too. He's one of my favorite characters actually :o)

**darcyonihana**Yes. I do hope on hinting at the affair, within the next two chapters I think. That's the plan, anyways. (Hurray! I'm always so happy to hear ppl have read About a Boy. It's so awesome.)

**- - - - - - - - - - -**

Chapter 18

**Jen's White Knight and More Dating Advice from Jeremy**

Or is it? Fine, I mean. I'm not worried about Christian—at all—but suddenly I'm wondering about the other side of the triangle. What _is _going on with Chase? And I'm all in the mood for a good clarifying chat with him. Thanks to Jeremy. Or no thanks.

He picks me up around one and we drive to Panara for food and to go over some Ancient Classics stuff. But I, of course, have my own private agenda.

Unfortunately, Chase and I actually talking about anything real or anything pertaining to us is an unprecedented event. He's always been a bit evasive when it comes to where we stand with each other. Understatement: he's always been _extremely _evasive. So I'm not sure how to bring it up, or if it will even go anywhere once I bring it up.

I start with: "So I made up with Christian last night," casually wedging that juicy slice of information into the conversation, again like I did with Jeremy. Like it's not big deal.

And Chase takes it like it's no big deal. "Uh-huh," he mumbles without looking up from his textbook. "So did you actually read _Agamemnon_? Because I sure didn't."

Damn. Why do I never get the reaction I want? People are too damn unpredictable these days. In this case, I get no reaction whatsoever from Chase. The Christian tactic is obviously not going to work. New strategy.

"Jeremy thinks I'm trying to play both sides. Like, I'm keeping my options open. He says it isn't fair," I prod.

Chase shrugs. Flips through his textbook. Eyes glued to the table. "Well. It kind of looks that way."

A-hah. So maybe that there is my reaction. And maybe he is a little pissed off about the Christian thing. And maybe he doesn't want to be just friends.

But then he adds, "I wouldn't worry about it, though. You know what you're doing." Still not looking at me.

Okay. I give up. Seeing as carefully broaching the subject isn't working, I'm going to cut to the chase here. "You don't want to date me, Chase Everhart," I say very evenly.

Now he looks up. He studies me for a minute or two and then he matches my tone. "You don't want to date me either, Becka Hanson."

He's right, of course. "Then why are we acting like we still want it?" I ask.

Chase shrugs again. "Because it works for us," he says.

Right. It works for us. I have a couple of questions about _that _assumption, but Chase is already back into his textbook which means discussion is closed and that's all I'm going to get out of him today. I sigh. I guess it doesn't matter. Chase and I, we are what we are. It doesn't matter.

I close my textbook and stare at him until he looks up again. When he does, I say, "I have to go."

"Where?" he asks, like he thinks I'm making this up and wants to see how weak of an alibi I've got.

"I have to meet Jen. We both deserve new shoes and today is the day for buying them. So," I begin standing up, "you can drop me off at the mall. Or, in the spirit of our pretend-like-we're-dating relationship, you welcome to come along. I'm sure it'll be loads of fun."

Those last few sentences are dripping with sarcasm. But Chase just says, "Okay," which means he's coming.

Because Chase is my psuedo boyfriend.

Whatever.

I dial Jen's cell and five minutes later we meet her outside of Express. She stares blankly at Chase.

"I know," I roll my eyes meaningfully. I brought a guy shopping. Heinous crime in girl world. "I've overbooking myself these days. Chase's fault, really. Apparently lunch dates with him transcend into the afternoon. I seriously wasn't planning on bringing him along."

"Whatever," Jen shrugs, a reaction very similar to my own. The three of us make off towards the shoe stores.

"So are you sure you can survive this?" Jen asks Chase, looking up at him dubiously.

"Hey, do not underestimate my shoe-shopping skills," he returns.

"I made Christian come shoe shopping with me once," I interject absently, forgetting for the moment that I am with Chase and random Christian anecdotes are probably not on his list of favorite conversation topics.

"Surprise, surprise," he says sarcastically.

I send him one of my ice-queen-death-looks and continue, more to myself than to anyone who might happening to be listening to me, "He lost a bet. Swore he's was gonna get a six-pack one summer a couple a years ago. Didn't."

"Well, he has one now," Jen says.

"Oh, _some_body's noticing," Chase teases, tousling her hair in his flirty, familiar way that is usually reserved for me. She fends him off then wrinkles her nose at him very cutely. Okay. What is with all the Jen-Chase action?

Not that I'm jealous.

It just that suddenly I feel like the third wheel, which is not a feeling I'm used to feeling and not one I like feeling either. And suddenly this whole fun shopping excursion feels more like a chore. And I want to get it over with. And I want Christian. And I'm seriously pissed off with Chase. Because does he want me to be his little girlfriend-who's-not-a-girlfriend or not?

But halfway through the excursion—some where around when Chase slings an arm around my shoulder and sings me an off-key rendition of "When You Say You Love Me"—I realize I may have been overreacting. Like I said—me and Chase, we are what we are. Take it or leave it. We'll never date seriously but we have a hell of a time together. It's not something worth overanalyzing. So I decide, from now on I'll just roll with it.

After four stores, Jen and I are very close to finding the perfect pair of shoes. And then it happens.

Sometimes I forget how truly ridiculous Jen is. Her appearance is so deceivingly benign that you just start thinking she must be as average as she looks. But the girl is truly and Bridget Jones at her core, and things happen to Jen that just don't happen to normal people. Case in point:

Somebody steals her shoes.

I'm serious. We're at one of those places where you help yourself. We've both taken our shoes off and we wander around the corner to look at what's in the next aisle. And when we come back, somebody's taken her shoes. Not my shoes and Jen's shoes. No, just Jen's.

I find it all mildly humorous. "Shoe pirating," I say dryly, staring at the floor where Jen's shoes should've been. "Who'd have ever thunk in?"

Jen, on the other hand, does not find the situation funny at all. She is becoming both mournful and panicky. They were, apparently, one of her favorite pairs.

But Chase, by far, has the oddest reaction to the theft. "For God's sake, they couldn't have gotten far. The shoes were here like two minutes ago," he says, and with that he makes off out of the store, evidently to track down the robber.

Jen slumps down on a bench. "He's never going to find them," she says crossly. And I'd have to agree with that.

But somehow, Chase does find them. Five or so minutes later he re-enter the store, shoes in hand. It a very knight-and-shining-armor moment—Chase walking triumphantly down the aisle, Jen look admiringly up at him—

And me again feeling like the third wheel.

- - - - - - - - - -

Back at home.

I'm sitting in our living room, paging through _People _magazine, when Jeremy plops down on the couch beside me.

"Inspiring reading," he notes, smiling humorously at me.

I look at him briefly and wrinkle my nose. I return to my reading.

"So I've been thinking," he continues. A phrase that demands my complete attention, especially when coming from Jeremy. I put down the magazine.

"That's always dangerous," I observe.

"Right," he says. "So about the whole Chase-Christian thing."

"Oh God, not that again," I moan.

"Pay attention," he scolds, "because I've figured out what your real problem is."

"Oh. Please. Enlighten me."

"I'm going to ignore the sarcasm there, because I know deep down in you, you really want to hear what I've got to say." Jeremy pauses to give me the chance to agree. I just stare blankly at him so he continues, "See, you _think _you're keeping your options open. But you're not."

"What do you mean?" I ask, for the moment forgetting to keep up the pretense of disinterestedness.

"Nobody knows that you're available, Becka," he explains. "Christian still thinks you're going to wind up with Chase, and Chase has always thought you have something going on with Christian." I must look a little mystified because he adds, "You seriously can't see that?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "I don't know if I even believe it. But anyway, even if it is true, what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Set the record straight. Especially with Christian. If you and Chase are really something that's never going happen, just tell Christian that. I mean, even if you don't want to date him, the guy deserves to know what's going on."

I know he does. "But the thing is," I begin slowly, wondering how exactly to explain this. "With Chase, I feel like—I feel like it's supposed to be a secret that we're never going to hook up. Like, he wants to keep it to ourselves. I don't know why, he just—he definitely gives me that vibe. The don't-go-spreading-this-around vibe."

Jeremy shrugs. "Well, I can't say I understand that," he says. "Anyway, you know what my advice is. Clear the air. Tell the truth. Because the way you're going about this, somebody's going to get screwed over, and very well may be you."

And that's all he has to say on the subject.


	20. Two Epiphanies

A/N: Dum, dum, dum… new chapter!

**NotreDamegirlie: **Sometimes my twisted little mind twists the plot in ways that divert (slightly) from Jane Austen's ingenious work. No, there is not Knightly/Emma/Churchill triangle in that book, but there is a Christian/Becka/Chase in my story. My muse just impressed me to write it that way. ;o)

**bow2thehippogriff: **Well, I posted. See, review do get me moving faster (Hint hint… Aaah, there I go with the blackmail again. Sorry guys)

But I am a review-addict…

**Jill: **"I'm anxiously awaiting the arrival of my mail-order Jeremy"… Me too.

Thank you all of my other reviewers. I love you all for reviewing :o) You are wonderful, awesome, and all other words basically meaning the same thing

- - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter 19

**Two Epiphanies**

Despite the disgusting show at the Halloween party, I had still been noticing Jen casting some longing glances at Elton in Creative Writing, and she'd obviously not let go of that incredibly resilient crush. Today however, she walks into class, and when her eyes fall on Elton, her look is one of actual revulsion. She quickly crosses the class room to where I'm sitting, plops down in the chair to my right, and announces that she has something very important to tell me.

"I've had an epiphany," she says.

"What?" I ask her, though I could almost guess after that look. Only almost, though. I've lost faith in my ability to predict the future.

"I can't tell you _now_," she says. I think she means by that she can't tell me with Elton in the room. Or maybe she means she can't tell me because class is starting.

I find out later that when she said "I can't tell you now," what she'd meant was, "I can't tell you until you've worked yourself into such a state of suspense and wonder that you're ready to beat the confession out of me."

All day she maintains this air of mystery—through class, through lunch, through me complaining to Christian about friends are supposed to tell.

(My generally incredibly perceptive Christian, it must be said, did not understand this conversation. He kept looking at me strangely and asking me, "What is it you want me to tell you?" And he started getting almost panicky, which made me think maybe he did have something to hide. But then I felt bad and ended up admitting that I wasn't talking about him. I was just trying to coax Jen's big news out of her. And Christian settled down. It was all very strange.)

But back to Jen.

After classes we head straight for my car because she says she'll tell me when we're back at my apartment. But I can't wait. Before I've even pulled out of the school parking lot I start begging.

"Okay girl, spill," I demand.

"I told you," she replies, "I'll tell you when we get to your apartment. Not now."

"Oh, _come on! _Please, please, please!?"

"Stop light," Jen says coolly.

I hit the breaks. "See, you're secrecy is having a negative affect on my driving," I accuse, scowling at her.

"Your not watching the road is having a negative affect on your driving," Jen returns gleefully. "Anyway, I tell you when we get to your apartment," she repeats. Then she adds amusedly, "_If _we get to your apartment."

"Oh, ha ha ha," I say dryly. "Now I'm going to have to speed, you know." And I do.

When we get to the apartment, Jeremy is on the couch buried in Quantum Physics. "Hello ladies," he says when walk in. "How's the day been?"

I sit down on the arm of the sofa facing him. "Interested in doing some a detective work, cousin?"

"I don't know," he says cautiously.

I continue cheerfully, "Because Christian flipped out on at lunch when I was talking about secrets, which I think means he must have one. Like maybe he's secretly a spy or a woman or a democrat."

"Or a CIA agent," Jen adds.

"Or a professional thief."

"Or a member of the Denmark royal family, like in that movie _The Prince and Me_."

"Right," I agree. "And maybe he's just _pretending _to be an American college student, and—"

"And maybe he was just pretending to grow up in the house across the street from you and to take you to your senior prom and to know you all your life," Jeremy interrupts, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe," I reply with a good deal of mock suspicion. "This raises all sorts of questions."

"Yeah, about your sanity," Jeremy returns sarcastically.

I scowl and him and then say, "Jen and I are going to have a pow-wow in my room in my bedroom. Do not disturb."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replies, returning to his textbook.

So I get up and Jen docilely follows me to my room. I shut the door behind us. We both sit down Indian style on the floor beside each other, leaning against my bed.

"Okay, what's the big news?" I ask.

Jen leans over and pulls something out of her backpack. A stack of papers and this pencil. She sets them solemnly in front of us and looks at me like there's something I should be understanding.

Umm. What am I missing here?

"I don't get it," I admit.

"Becka!" she exclaims. She picks up the pile of paper and sets them in my lap. I start paging through the stack and begin to put two and two together for myself as Jen explains.

"It's all Elton's. You know how we get each other's stuff in creative writing? You know, to write comments on it? I kept copies of everything he ever wrote."

She certainly did—right down to that stupid silver-spoon poem. Wow. I mean, just wow.

"And this," Jen continues, plopping the pencil on top of the papers, "really was his. I borrowed it one time. Never gave it back." She's silent for a moment. I stare at the papers in front of me; she stares at the wall. Then she continues, taking the stack away from me and setting on the floor again, "Anyway, I don't want it anymore." She says that very matter-of-fact, nonchalant, and it's obvious she's is finally over the whole Elton thing.

"I feel like we should celebrate," I say.

"We should like… burn all this," Jen says a little maliciously.

I shake my head. "It's raining and I am not seating my room aflame." Then I've got an idea. "Christian works in the science building. He's got a paper shredder in his office." I smile starts across my face. This could be fun.

Jen is grinning too. "Let's go," she says, rising and grabbing the papers. Soon we're back out the door and heading again towards school.

"Surprise," I say, as we walk into Christian's office. "Working hard?"

"Course not," he says, happy to see us. Christian grades papers for one of the Biology teachers. Generally, there's not much to do, but as long as he sits in his office he gets paid. It's a sorry excuse for a job.

"We have need of your paper shredder," I say, sitting myself down on the desk directly in front of him.

"For what?" he asks.

Jen holds up the stake of papers. Christian raises his eyebrows.

"We're destroying Elton," I supply.

"Aah," he says, trying to keep a straight face while he's looking at Jen. Then he turns to me and I see the corner of his mouth starting to curve upwards. He says, "You wouldn't happen to have a stack of Chase crap you're here to shred, would you?"

Taking the papers from Jen, I hit him over the head with them and say, "No. Bad Christian."

He shrugs. "Can't blame a guy for hoping." Then he breaks into a grin. I roll my eyes.

We begin shredding papers. The process is accompanied by an interesting paradox of solemnity and mirth. Jen and I are giddy at first (it's just as much fun for me to shred these papers as her after all—I actually dated the guy. And then when he tried to kiss me in the car this year. I shudder even thinking about it), but then I start thinking about Jen's sudden turnabout. I mean, she got over Elton remarkably quickly after months of lingering over liking him.

I become quiet and contemplative thinking about this, trying to figure out what could've caused such a quick and drastic change. From my perch on the desk I watch Jen smiling and shredding and bantering with Christian. It's just that she's so happy. And not that that's bad, but really what made the change? Even when I changed my mind about Chase, it didn't happen as fast as this.

Wait.

Chase.

Oh my God.

Think about this.

Jen beaming up at him from the curb when he comes to fix our tires.

The whole day at the mall with them flirting all over place, and then that look she gave him when he came back with her shoes.

Even the way she's been slightly negative about the Chase and me all along.

It all adds up. Jen is in love with Chase.

My eyes must have widened with the epiphany, because soon Christian is looking at me strangely, trying to read what I'm thinking about. Finally he narrows his eyes and just asks, "What?"

I'd almost tell him, but that would give away the whole Chase-and-me-not-having-it-bad-for-each-other thing. Beside, I've got to talk to Jen about this first. Just to make sure I'm right. Although I pretty sure I am.

I shake my head and come back out of my thoughts. "What? Oh, nothing." I notice we're done with the paper shredding. I say, "Anyway, _we _should probably go so _you _can get back to his work."

"Right," Christian says, though he still frowning at me, even more concerned now that I won't tell him what's going on. Oh well. Someday, maybe.

Jen's a little reluctant, but I grab her arm and basically drag her out of the office, throwing a see-you-later over my shoulder to poor Christian on my way. Once we're safely out of hearing range I say. "Okay, I figured it out."

"What?" she asks, looking up at me all innocent, like there's nothing I could've figured out because there's nothing she's not telling.

"Why you're so suddenly over Elton."

"Because he's a jackass?" she asks.

"Well, admittedly. But also because you've been developing feelings for someone else."

Jen doesn't say anything, but her expression gives it away. "Haven't you?" I demand, more confident than ever that my hypothesis was correct.

She gives in, looking a little guilty actually, and says, "Okay, maybe, yeah. And I know what you're going to say, Becka. I know it's completely unrealistic of me and probably just terrible and—"

"Hey," I interrupt. "No I think it's great."

She looks at me, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah," I assure her. "I mean, it's a big step up from Elton. And after he was so heroic for you, how could you not like him?" I add, in reference to the shoe-thief incident.

"Then you're not mad or anything?" she asks, still a little wary.

"Hell no," I assure her. "I'll even tell you a secret. Despite appearances, me and him, it was never going to happen."

Jen grins, completely relieved. We walk down the building in silence and out the door. Chase is sitting on the bench outside. I grin seeing him, the subject of such a recent conversation. Jen and Chase. This is so perfect.

"There's Chase," I say.

"With Sophie Walker," Jen adds. "What is he doing with her?"

I hadn't noticed her before, but now I do and I wrinkle my nose. They're actually sitting pretty close. "She probably attacked him upon seeing him. Poor guy. Maybe we should go rescue him."

"Maybe not right now," Jen says.

"Okay," I comply, completely understanding. We head off towards my car, but I can't help looking back at him just once. This is great. Everything is going to work.


	21. Plans are Made and Grow

A/N: Loyal reviewers: I am dying of a cold, which makes my attention span very minimal, which is why it's taken me so long to write this chapter. But here it is. Remember to review! :o)

Go EAGLES!

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Chapter 20

**Plans Are Made and Grow**

I have to think about all of this.

It's the day after Jen and I had those pivotal epiphanies, and it's been weird, especially lunch. We were all there—Christian, Chase, Jen, West, Taylor and I. First it was just me and Christian, so we were sitting across form each other. Then West and Taylor showed up and sat beside Christian and me respectively. When Jen showed up she took the seat on Christian other side. And last Chase, who landed by me.

Chase started at me immediately, propping his elbow on my shoulder and forking a bite of my rice and vegetables.

I glared at him and he said, "Hey, I'd say at this point what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine, babe."

"I am not an arm rest," I said.

"Prove it," Chase grinned. Then he asked me suggestively. "So when are we going to have a racquetball rematch, Becka? _That _was a good time." He smirked at me.

I scowled again. I looked at Jen. She didn't seem to be noticing all of this. I looked at Christian. He didn't seem to be caring.

So I went with it. I stopped worrying about Chase and Jen and Christian and everybody and I just had fun with it. And strangely that worked out. My pervasive flirting with Chase didn't seem to bother Jen or Christian, which weirded me out. Because I thought it might get to Jen at least. I mean, with her liking Chase, you'd think it would.

After that, I was slightly subdued, although only Christian seemed to notice. He kept throwing me these worried glances whenever the table's rowdy conversation allowed it. I kept avoiding eye contact.

On second thought, maybe I don't want to think about all of that right now. No, definitely not. I pick up the phone.

Christian answers.

"I need help with chemistry," I lie.

"I'm doing calculus with West," he says. "Can't someone else help you? Who's your lab partner?"

"Luke Emerson or something."

"Oh Luke. I know him. Nice guy. Why don't you give him a call?" Christian sounds extremely distracted. I switch tactics.

"Because I don't really need help with chemistry, but I figured if I said that you might get your butt over here quicker."

Silence on the other end.

"I need my best friend," I prod. Almost whining.

"Not fair," Christian protests. "You're guilt tripping me when I've got calculus to do."

"Are you at West's?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Stay there. I've got a better idea." I hang up the phone and grab my car keys. Ten minutes later I'm walking in West's door. He and Christian are on the floor with their books and a plethora of scrap papers spread out in front of them. Taylor is on the couch behind them, reading a book.

"What is this?" I ask, hands on my hips. "Taylor's invited to calculus night and I'm not?" Only half joking.

"Taylor's quieter than you," Christian replies dryly, not bother to look up at me.

Oh. Tonight is so not the night for that.

I wander into the kitchen. "You boys eaten?" I ask.

"No," they chorus. Christian adds, "But we know you can't cook, Becka."

I can order pizza. I purposely pick a place twenty minutes away (that doesn't deliver) so I can leave now. "Wait, wait, Becka, I'll come with you," Christian offers, pulling himself off the floor. I wave him off. I leave.

When I get back, Christian and Chase are finishing up. I set the pizza on the coffee table and sit down on the floor beside Christian, but far enough away to imply distance. I know. I am so passive aggressive sometimes.

And Christian hates that, more than anything. He grabs a slice of pizza and takes no notice of me. Taylor and West chatter genially, entirely oblivious to the battle of wills waging between us, or at least ignoring it. Soon I'm going to have to throw myself in Christian's lap and beg him to pay attention to me.

I stand up and walk to the kitchen. Rummage around in the cabinets until I find a can of pineapple with one of those pop-up lids.

I walk back into the living room and hand the can to Christian. He opens it and hands it back, silence between us still not breeched. In fact, it's a moment where we're all pretty silent. Then Taylor says, pretty abruptly, "Do you guys remember what it was like freshman year?"

I'm still standing up, facing them all—Christian sitting on the floor, Taylor and West on the couch. I look at them all, one by one. Freshman year this was the core group. Freshman year was easy. Fun. A lot less stressful.

"God, I miss freshman year," I say, sitting back down on the floor, this time right beside Christian. He drapes an arm around my shoulder. Sometimes we don't have to say anything.

"Me too," says Taylor.

"Before Elton," I say.

"And Amy," Christian adds.

"And Chase." This from Taylor.

"And Sophie Walker." West.

"And even Jen," I sigh. I set the can of pineapple down on the floor beside me and start strategically placing pieces on my pizza. "Remember Thanksgiving, when we all went to West's? That was so much fun."

We're all quiet for a minute, happy quiet, remembering this. West says, "We should do that again this year."

Taylor chuckles, like that's a laugh. West continues, more animatedly, "No really, we should. Just the four of us."

I'm the first to agree. "Yeah, we totally should."

Christian looks at me. "Just the four of us he says," as if he expects me to say, "Well, the four of us and Chase."

I stare him down. "_Only_ if it's just the four of us," I say, seriously. Meaning it. Christian grins. Taylor agrees. It's settled.

- - - - - - - - -

After those plans are made, the fours of us begin to feel a bit exclusive. So that on lunch on Tuesday Taylor, Christian, and I sit down at one of the four-person tables, leaving only room for West. He shows up and he says he's got bad news.

"Well, not _bad _news, just—" he breaks off and looks at us. Then he says. "Look. Chase has got no where to go for Thanksgiving. And being that he's my cousin…"

"We've got to take him with us," Christian finished glumly. We're all, in fact, deflated.

"Five is a really bad number," Taylor says. She's looking directly at me.

"I know," says West, also looking at me. God. Give it a rest. This is not my fault and I'm not going to feel guilty about it. "I think we need another person," he says.

"How 'bout Jen?" I suggest. She could keep Chase occupied. I could stick with Christian.

"Hey," Christian says. "Since I'm the odd man out again, I think I should get to pick the person I'm going to be hanging out with all weekend." He pauses to provide a little dramatic anticipation. We all wait for his grand decision. He says, "Yeah, okay. Jen's good."

- - - - - - - - - -

Wednesday. Lunch. No longer feeling exclusive, we are sitting at one of the regular tables with Chase and Jen and Sophie Walker and Natalie Banks, talking about Thanksgiving plans. Sophie and Natalie don't have any. Christian and I look at each other across the table. Both feeling guilty. Sure Natalie doesn't shut up, but she's a nice kid and we have known her since basically kindergarten. If we don't include her, who's going to?

(Christian probably also feels guilty about Sophie Walker, who after a whole semester still seems like the new girl. I know this is partly my fault. I haven't adopted her into the group—like I adopted Jen and Chase—and I am group royalty. I should probably feel bad about this. Why don't I?)

West lives on this huge ranch in Texas. Huge ranch, huge house. Christian and I look at him as if to say, "What difference is it going make?" West roles his eyes, but gives us the okay.

Five minutes later, both Natalie and Sophie are coming along.

- - - - - - - - - -

Thursday. West sits down beside Taylor, across from Chase and me. "This time it really is bad news," he says. "Elton and Amy are coming."

"Why?!!!" I explode. "Why on earth?!"

"Because I couldn't stop them!" West defends himself. "It's that Amy girl. She's incredibly lacking in all social skills which makes her impossible to deal with. She said she was coming and she is."

I sigh and rest my head in my hands. Lord help us. What a trip this is going to be.


	22. Jeremy Says One Last Thing

A/N Hey guys. No I haven't died, just slowed down. Anyways, new chapter's up now. Sorry it took so long. I'll try to be quicker this time :o)

**nebulae **Hey thanks! Look I changed the title :o)

**Jill ** Chase-in-a-can. Lol.

**schizoidmastermind**Mwhahaha. Yes, Christian v. Becka, round two. It's all coming. I can't wait to write it.

**Marilolo**Hurray, I am better from the cold. And speaking of updating… please update your story? please, please, pretty please:o) (I'm shameless, I know)

Love you all, hope you like the chapter! Next chapter they will all head out for Thanksgiving. What fun! Enjoy and review, review, review! You all know I'm a review addict.

-

Chapter 21

**Jeremy Says One Last Thing**

Now I've got this horrible news about Amy and Elton weighing down upon me, but somehow I manage to struggle through the rest of the day. When I finally get back to the apartment, I throw myself face-down onto the couch and scream into the cushion. And I don't move until Jeremy comes home.

(Well. Actually I do move. I eat a pint of ice cream, wander around the apartment, check my email, stare at my phone and will Christian to call (he doesn't), wander around the apartment some more, and study chemistry for a grand total of two minutes. But when it hits eight o'clock and Jeremy's going to be home from work any minute, I walk over to the stereo, pop in The Killers, and begin blaring "Jenny Was a Friend of Mine" at top volume. Then I spread myself back out on the couch.)

I hear the door open and Jeremy come inside, and I'd like to look up and see his face, but that would ruin the dramatic air I've adopted. He turns down The Killers and comes and sits down on the couch next to my head.

"My life is over," I groan into the cushion.

"You're drooling on the couch, aren't you?" Jeremy asks. As usual very droll and as usual paying no mind to my theatrics. I glance up from the couch just long enough to give him the death-scowl. Then the head goes back down.

Jeremy sighs. Pauses. Finally asks, "Why is your life over Becka?" He says that like a kid at school reciting the correct answer. But I ignore his tone and take the question at face value.

I roll into a sitting position, cross-legged and sitting sideways on the couch so that I'm facing him. "I knew you'd be interested," I say cheerfully.

"I'm not," Jeremy says. "But I figured you'd tell me either way, so, you know, I might as well _feign _interest."

I nod my head as if impressed by his wisdom. "That is a very valid point," I say. And without any further invitation, I launch into the whole terrible story. With just a little bit of exaggeration. Just a little bit.

"Remember those awesome Thanksgiving break plans I told you about? West, Taylor, Christian and I driving off into the Texas sunset in perfect harmony? Reminiscing over our years of friendship and saying, 'What ho, good times'?"

"You guys sound like a cross between a bad western and a Dickens novel," Jeremy interrupts.

"Well, whatever we sound like, our wonderfully tranquil plans are, alas, no more."

"Oh, oh, let me guess. Chase is along for the ride," Jeremy says, smug with his ability to predict my problems. But my problems are so predictable, I hardly think he deserves credit for that.

"Yes. First major blow to my tranquility," I concede. "But we decided to invite Jen along, which would've made the trip somewhat salvageable. Chase and Jen, you know."

"Becka," Jeremy says in that tone of voice that he and Christian both use with me from time to time. The voice that means a lecture is coming next. Well, not today, buddy. "No I don't know," he says. "Chase and Jen what?"

"Chase and Jen nothing." I say. "Just Chase and Jen. Chase _and _Jen." Jeremy opens his mouth to interrupt again, to scold me probably, but I don't give him the chance. I breeze past him. "And don't even start with me, Jeremy, because I've talked to Jen about it this, so I'm not making it up. And I did no talking her into it this time either. None whatsoever"

"Still," Jeremy says. "Chase and Jen. I just can't see it."

For all of his anti-dating theories, Jeremy sure does think he's an authority on the subject.

"Well _I _can," I say importantly. Because I'm the really the authority here. Jeremy just shrugs. It's not really a concession. He's really just patronizing me. But I _so_ don't want to get into a Chase-Jen argument right now. I just want to complain about them. About Chase and Jen and Amy and Elton and how they are all ruining my Thanksgiving. And my birthday too, for that matter. Did I mention my birthday is that Saturday? Is this injustice or what?

"Anyways," I continue, moving on with the story of my day, "now by some by some freak and dreadful act of fate, Amy and Elton are coming too." I look at Jeremy after I divulge that particularly bit of information. He's trying to keep a straight face, but he's having a hard time with it. I can tell he wants to burst out laughing. I can't really blame him.

"Why is God punishing me!" I moan, throwing myself face-down on the couch again.

"I can think of a few reasons," Jeremy says, sounding very amused with his own wit. I sit back up and glare at him.

"This is going to be the worst break ever. It's a complete mess," I say, seriously. Not complaining anymore. Just stating a fact.

"It is," Jeremy agrees. Not trying to comfort me. Because really, what can he say? This break is going to be a mess. That's just it.

Then Jeremy leans forward and looks at me seriously and asks me seriously, "But honestly Becka, which is worse? That Amy and Elton are coming? Or that Chase is coming?"

I know what the answer to that is, deep down. But I'm not sure I want to say it. I just look at him for a while and then I finally admit, "Honestly? Chase. Chase is worse."

Jeremy nods. "I thought so."

"It's just," I say, getting ready to defend myself. I pause to collect my thoughts. With that done, I plow into my explanation.

"It's just things get so messy when it's me and Chase and Christian. The three of us just don't work as a group. It throws the dynamics all off. Because they both, you know, demand pretty much my complete attention. So then somebody ends up left out. And it's usually Christian. And then I just end up feeling horrible."

I sink back into the couch with a sigh. And I look at Jeremy, and for once, I ask for his advice. "What's a girl to do?" I say. And it's not a rhetorical question.

"For starters," Jeremy says, "tell Christian you aren't dating slash going to date Chase."

So he's back on that track again. "But I _can't _do that," I say miserably.

"Yes you can. And you should."

"Why does it matter anyway?" I ask. I know it does matter somehow, but I don't want it to. So I want to know why it matters.

"Because he—" Jeremy begins, and stops as if he's catching himself. He starts again. "Because you aren't being honest with anyone, and if you're going to start being honest, I think you should start with Christian."

"Why?" I'm being obtuse, I know. But for some reason I just want Jeremy to spell it all out for me.

"Because the whole Chase thing screwed up your relationship with him the most."

Dammit. Jeremy is always so logical. He's right of course. I felt all along I should be telling Christian, at least, the truth about Chase. But I don't really want to. It's almost embarrassing—how all of the obsession and excitement and everything else I felt about Chase at the beginning was all for nothing.

"I can't promise I'll do that," I tell Jeremy.

"Then I can't say I think things will go well for you," Jeremy says. He's not sugar-coating things for me here.

"Well. I guess I figured things wouldn't go well for me anyway."

Jeremy shrugs, apparently giving me up as a lost cause. I'm going to do what I want. "Do what you want," he says. He opens one of his textbooks then, signifying that the conversation is over. Case closed.

I just sit there staring at the wall for a few minutes. Jeremy startles me out of this daze.

"Can I just say one last thing?" he asks.

I nod.

"If you had to pick between them, Chase and Christian, who would you pick, and why would you pick them?" He turns back to his textbook. I'm not supposed to answer that question out loud. I'm just supposed to think about it.

I don't know who I'd pick and I don't know why I'd pick them. And I definitely don't want to think about it. Because I don't really want to figure it out.

From the stereo, The Killers are singing, "Everything will be alright, everything will be alright." I cross the room and turn them off. They don't know what they're talking about.


	23. Dynamics

A/N: Aaah! The eagles lost the superbowl. I'm still depressed about it. Fortunately there was a new _Lost _this week, which was just enough Sayid to get me through this chapter (you should really watch _Lost_, everyone) So yes, Chapter 22…

Please keep reviewing guys. You know the reviews get me writing faster :o). The next chapter will be Thanksgiving day. Mwhahaha. Ah, the irony. What _do_ my characters have to be thankful for?

-

**Chapter 22**

Dynamics

At noon on Wednesday Jeremy drives me over to West's and drops me and my suitcase off.

"Good luck," he says.

I shrug. "Thanks." He drives away.

Most everyone has already gathered. I drop my suitcase and then I sit down on it and watch the confusion taking place around me. I refuse to take part in any decision making today. Absolutely refuse.

See, here's the problem. West, Christian, and Chase are driving, and West has already volunteered to do the noble thing and drive Beauty and the Beast (Elton and Amy, respectively). Which leaves the rest of us—Sophie Walker, Natalie Banks, Jen, and I—to be divided up between Christian and Chase. There is no way I'm going to be the one who decides who I'm riding with. I'll do as I'm told.

The dynamics of this group are a little off. The problem is, there is somebody here that everyone dislikes. I still find Sophie Walker a bit annoying, and Chase has definitely avowed his hatred toward her. Natalie Banks can get a bit trying at times. And let's face it. Nobody here likes Amy. Elton probably doesn't even like her. And actually, nobody really likes Elton either. Especially Jen.

And even Christian—Christian who likes everyone, probably even likes Amy deep down. Even he has this subtle distain for Chase.

See. There's someone for everyone.

What are we doing? What are we all doing going to Texas together? Who's idea was this?

Right. Nobody's.

I realize I am paying no attention to all of my surroundings when Chase comes over and squeezes onto my suitcase beside me. Between the two of us we are definitely breaking whatever is inside of it. Fortunately, it's mostly clothes.

"You're man's being awfully valiant over there," he says, obviously referring to Christian. He looks down to gage my reaction at his calling Christian my man, but my reaction is nonexistent. Chase adds, "But I'm sure that doesn't surprise you."

"It doesn't," I say. And it doesn't. Christian is above all valiant. Above all good. If he's being valiant now, that probably means he's offering to drive Sophie and Natalie. He's letting Chase have me. He's letting me have Chase. He's avoiding a fight.

Damn. Secretly, I want to ride with Christian. But like I said, I'll do as I'm told.

Then Chase surprises me. He is suddenly and uncharacteristically generous. "But he can have you, anyway."

I look up at him then, and my astonishment must show clearly on my face. Chase continues to explain. "I figure this was supposed to be your thing anyway. You know, you and Christian and West and the lot. And _obviously_," he says, looking meaningfully at the crowd assembled in West's driveway, "that hasn't quite panned out. So you might as well have the ride there with Christian. I think I can suffer through a few hours in the car with Sophie Walker." He wrinkles his nose when he says her name. "I'll just play music really loud." Then he grins at me.

I'm struck by this unusual benevolence on Chase's part. "Thank you," I say.

He shrugs, "Don't mention it. Besides, I get you the rest of the weekend."

I shake my head and roll my eyes. I suppose you can only ask for so much generosity at once. Chase stands and says to me, "Now come on. Get off this suitcase so I can load it into the car."

I smile and stand up and let him lug the thing over the Christian's trunk. "You riding with me?" Christian asks, eyebrows up quizzically. It's obviously not what he expected.

"'Course, silly, who'd you think I was riding with?" I ask playfully. Christian chooses not to answer that question. Wise man.

"I guess that means I get Jen, too," Christian says instead. Then he frowns and looks around. "Where _is _Jen?"

"Late," West says. "And the only one not here."

"A girl after my own heart," I say proudly. Everyone rolls their eyes appreciatively. Jen shows up in the midst of all this eye rolling and Christian loads her stuff into his trunk. And now we're packed and ready to go.

I claim shotgun and climb into the front seat of Christian's car. Jen climbs in the back and we head out behind West. Christian flips on the radio and I start playing DJ, and suddenly I feel like maybe this trip is salvageable after all. So when Ashley Simpson comes on the radio I turn it up really loud and join in. Now I know "Pieces of Me" is a stupid song, but it's one of those songs that you've just got to sing along to when the moment is right.

And the moment is so, so right.

By the second chorus, Jen is joining in (though at a somewhat lower decibel). Christian is laughing at the both of us. How good is life? After that song, I turn down the volume a little so that we can talk over the radio. "Hey Christian," I say. "So we need to come up with a strategy."

"A strategy? For what" he asks, glancing towards me than back at the road.

"For the weekend! Duh!"

Christian laughs. "Did you just say 'duh'? Because I don't think I've heard anyone say that since like sixth grade."

I wave off the comment and continue with my original train of thought. "Somehow we need to orchestrate the dynamics of the group."

"Well, you are the master ochestrator."

"Right," I agree, though I'm not actually sure that that's a word. "So let's start paring people off now. West and Taylor obviously, and Elton and the Beast-Woman. I think Natalie and Sophie can handle themselves."

"I love the way you're always so sweet to Sophie Walker. It really shows your hidden depths," Christian interrupts with uncalled for sarcasm.

"Which leaves me and you and Jen and Chase," I continue as though Christian hadn't interrupted. "So Jen can hang with Chase for the weekend, which leaves me to you." I smile widely at my own brilliance. However, nobody else seems to be as impressed as I am. Or at least, they're pretending not to be too impressed.

First Jen says, with what is almost genuine bewilderment, "Why would I want to hang with Chase for the weekend?"

This is obviously an act. A very good act, I have to say, but an act nonetheless. Apparently Jen doesn't want anybody else on to this Chase business until It's for sure. Alright. I can dig that.

Christian adds, "And this is also assuming that I want to be spending all weekend with you."

This is obviously a joke from Christian, as spending the entire weekend with me is precisely what he would like to do.

Wow. I read people so well I stun myself sometimes.

"Fine," I say, wrinkling my nose and sending them both in turn a look of mock hurt and resentment. "I'll chill with Chase and you two can entertain each other. I didn't really want to spend time with you anyway."

This last comment is directed towards Christian and is accompanied by a slug on the shoulder. He laughs and replies, "Sour grapes."

(With this sour-grapes comment, Christian is both teasing me and referencing one of Aesop's Fables, something I've found in my years of adolescence and early adulthood that only Christian and I read as children. We're used to making the sour-grapes comment with each other. However, I find when you use it with other people, they have inevitably never heard of Aesop or his fables, and thus you have to go ahead and explain the whole sour-grapes fable to them. Which is really too long to explain concisely, so I won't be explaining it now, and if you want to know what Christian is talking about, go read Aesop.)

-

We finally arrive at West's near ten o'clock. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson meet us at the front door and hugs and introductions go all around. I loved West's parents as soon as I met them two years ago. Christian and I they treat like old friends. Chase and I they treat like a couple. I wonder what West has been telling them.

"Anyway, I'm sure you're all exhausted," Mrs. Anderson says, and she proceeds to relate to us what options we have for sleeping. West's bedroom has a double bed (which I'm sure he and Taylor have dibs on), then there's one more bedroom with a double bed and one with a single. The rest of us are crashing in the den, which is a huge room full of plenty of couches and they say they dragged a futon down there too.

The Andersons leave us to sort it all out, and after a lot of discussion and some serious prodding from me, it's decided that Elton and Amy will take the other double-bed room. Natalie Banks would like the single room, and we're happy to oblige.

Which leaves me and Chase and Christian and Jen and Sophie Walker downstairs. We make our way down there and find the futon (which Jen and Sophie immediately claim). Then there's a pull-out couch bed, and another couch.

Umm…

At first there's a lot of joking about how I'm going to make Chase and Christian sleep together (ha ha) on the pull-out couch. But I know in the end I'm going to be on there with one of them. And you know, I suddenly feel a great wave of resentment towards Jen and Sophie, who obviously claimed that futon just to avoid finding themselves in the situation I'm in now.

So finally I toss the ball into the boys' court. I say, "Well, I get the pull-out bed, 'cause I'm the girl. You guys can duel or something to see who gets to share it with me."

And somehow between them they work it out that Christian is going to share the bed with me, and again I'm really surprised that Chase is being so… I don't know. He's just being so not like Chase.

But I have to say, I think I'm actually happy about the Christian decision.

I mean, just because it might be a little weird sharing the bed with Chase and all.

Then West comes down to make sure we're all okay, which we say we are and Jen adds, "Christian is sleeping with Becka," which has become the joke of the evening.

"Oh, I don't know if _that's _such a good idea," West teases, raising an eyebrow suggestively at Christian and I.

I roll my eyes. "Well, we've done pretty good for fifteen years. I think we can manage to keep our hands off each other."

"For one more night, at least," Christian adds jokingly.

"Okay, _now _I'm sleeping on the floor," I say. We all laugh.

I don't sleep on the floor.

I don't sleep much at all, actually. I had thought I would be more uncomfortable with Chase on the other side of the bed. But really, I don't think I could be any more uncomfortable than this. I'm scooted so close to the edge of the bed that I'm almost on the floor, and I can't, I just can't get to sleep.

Christian is my oldest friend, and sharing a pull-out couch with him with three more people in the same room as us should not cause this much panic. It shouldn't cause any panic at all. He seems to be sleeping fine, anyway. So what is wrong with me?

Now I know most people probably don't have their smartest moments at three in the morning, but maybe that's when I have mine. Because I'm lying here, and I'm thinking about everything that's happened over the past few months. And I'm thinking about the things Jeremy's been saying to me lately. And I'm thinking about how I can't lay any closer to Christian than this.

And I'm starting to come to terms with an idea that I think I've been trying to keep at bay for a long, long time.


	24. Chaos Reigns

A/N: Hurray! A new chapter. Last week was like the week of no sleep for me and this one is midterms, so we're all luckly i got this chapter done... But I did it for you guys, all my fantasitic reviewers :o) I love you all! Keep reviewing - Sorry, not much Christian in this chapter but the next one should be mostly Christian/Becka. What fun!

Chapter 23

**Chaos Reigns**

I'm the first one up in the morning. I finally fell asleep some time around 3 a.m., but even then it was a really restless sleep and I woke up at least every hour. Around 6:30 I finally gave up and got up, got showered, and headed to the kitchen to rummage through around for coffee. I definitely needed it.

At 7:15, as my luck would have it, Elton joins me. "Since when were you an early riser?" he grunts as he shuffles into the kitchen.

I watch him placidly. It would be nice if Elton and I could call a truce for the weekend. Or at least for the day. Because I'm running on about three hours of sleep here, and I've got limited energy.

"Since when were you?" I counter, keeping my tone of voice as light as possible under the current circumstances.

(Which basically are my limited sleep. And I haven't finished my coffee. And what am I going to do for the next three nights? I need more sleep than this. Maybe Christian will switch places with Chase. But how am I going to orchestrate _that_? And why does everything have to turn out so not the way I'd planed it?)

Elton, who's back was to me until now, turns around and just stares at me for a couple of minutes. Then he says matter-of-factly, "You look terrible."

Obviously a truce is out of the question. But seriously, how does he expect me to look after the night I've had?

"Coffee?" I offer, holding my mug up towards him.

"No thanks," Elton griminces. "I'm going to the shower." He shuffles back out of the room. I'm happy to be alone again.

I call Jeremy, but of course at 7:30 on Thanksgiving he isn't up yet and doesn't have his phone on. I don't leave a voice mail. In another five minutes West comes down to the kitchen. He doesn't notice me at the table, and begins digging through the cabinets. I find I'm glad that West is the next person up. Because at least it isn't Christian.

"I already found your coffee," I say, letting West know of my presence.

He pulls a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch out of a cabinet and turns around to look at me. "Whoa, Becka. What, did you sleep for two hours?" he asks. But unlike Elton's you-look-terrible, the question is infused with concern.

"Three, actually," I correct, as he gets milk out from his refrigerator, two bowls, and two spoons. Then he walks over to the table and sits down beside me. He fills the first bowl with milk and cereal and slides it to me.

"So you're worrying about Chase and Christian and how all those dynamics are going to work out?" West asks.

I shrug. Not exactly, but let him think that.

"Well don't worry about it," West continues. "Because Christian is totally cool with you and Chase now."

Ugg. I think I'm going to throw up the cereal I just swallowed.

"He is?" I ask miserably.

West mistakes my misery for surprise and says, "Well, yeah. I know he's been pretty bi-polar about the whole thing, but I think he's finally resigned himself to the idea of you liking someone better than him."

West laughs like that's funny. I laugh like that's funny.

It's not funny.

In the midst of all this laughing, a familiar voice says from the doorway, "Hey, we found the party." Speaking of the devil. I turn to find Christian himself walking into the kitchen, with Jen at his side.

"Hello, love," Christian says to me, stepping behind me and rubbing my shoulders.

"Christian," I say dryly. "I am not your love." Believe me. Nobody is more aware of that than I am right now.

"Right," Christian agrees with exaggerated sadness. "You're Chases love." He perks back up again, and continues, "Which is why I have to find a new love." He walks back over to Jen and slings an arm around her shoulder. "Jen is my new love," Christian announces. Jen rolls her eyes at me, but is obviously enjoying the attention. West sends me this smile like he thinks all my problems have just been solved. Little does he know. I generously decide to leave him in his blissful ignorance.

Of course, this whole conversation has been in jest, and Christian's antics have been only for effect. Maybe I'm taking things too seriously. Maybe Christian isn't as resigned as he seems to be.

Or maybe he is.

Or maybe I shouldn't care.

Sophie Walker is the next to join us, which means that Chase is downstairs now by himself. I've begun to feel a bit claustrophobic in the kitchen—you know, the close proximity with Christian and all—so I slip quietly out of the room. I think only Sophie notices me leave.

Chase is just waking up when I step down the stairs. I cross the room and sit down on the bed Christian and I shared last night. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Chase rolls over on his side to see who's come back into the room.

"Becka?" he says groggily.

"'Morning," I smile. As much as I was worried about it before, right now really I'm glad Chase came along. He's a safe zone. I know how things stand with us.

Chase groans and sits up. "Is everyone else up already?"

"No," I answer. My eyes wander around the room. The place is pretty messy after we all crashed last night. I'm in the mood to do a good deed. "Let's clean up down here," I say, looking back at Chase.

Although I'm sure that cleaning up West's basement isn't high on Chase's priority list first thing in the morning, he knows how to choose his battles. So he shrugs and says, "Okay."

We get to work, making small talk and joking around while we clean. The Chase casually interjects into the conversation, "So. Did you sleep well last night?"

Fortunately my back is to him when he asks that, so he can't see the way my face contorts. As innocent as the question may seem, when it's coming from Chase I'm sure it's loaded with ulterior motive. He's probing me for information. At first I consider lying to him. But since he'd probably see through a lie, I decide not to go with the truth.

"No," I say blankly, my back still to him.

"Can I guess why?" he asks.

Arrogant bastard. "No," I repeat, trying for the same blank intonation as before, but my 'no' comes out a little firmer this time.

"You know," Chase begins and pauses, as if he's formulating what he's about to say. "I think a lot more people would see through you if they didn't think you were with me."

He says that's like he's trying to justify himself, like he's trying to convince himself that he's been doing me a favor and not just screwing me up with Christian. On one hand, that is so not a good justification. But on the other, maybe I do have something to thank him for. Maybe I would've never realized that Christian was the one I really wanted if it wasn't for Chase.

Wait—am I even ready to admit that I _want _Christian yet? I don't know.

Well, I'm not really to admit it to Chase. I turn around to face him and answer, "I don't know what you're taking about. There's nothing to see through."

I must have managed to say that convincingly enough. Chase just stares at me, opens his mouth and closes it. Opens his mouth again. But when he does, Taylor bounds down the stars and interrupts him.

"Hey you two," she begins. Then she notices the state of the room and says, "Wow." To me: "Christian said you snuck down here to visit your lover, but I didn't think that meant you guys were cleaning." She laughs. Apparently more people than just Sophie Walker noticed me slip downstairs. Then Taylor says to Chase, "Go take a shower, Chase. You're the last one who needs to."

I'm still wondering if Christian actually referred to Chase as my lover, or if Taylor added that particularly descriptive noun.

Chase grumbles a little about taking his own sweet time, but then he heads upstairs. Once he's gone, Taylor asks me, "How you doing, girl? West says you're all stressed out."

"I'm fine," I lie. But again, it's a good lie. At least Taylor seems to be reasonably convinced that I'm okay.

"Good," she says. "'Cause I've got a feeling chaos is going to reign today, and I'll be needing back up in the kitchen. Even if you can't cook, you can still keep order."

"I'm good back up," I offer.

"You're good back up, West's good back up, Christian's good back up, but I'm not so sure about the rest of this crew," Taylor says, half joking and half serious. I'm wouldn't be too sure about this crew myself. Even Jen is letting me down, not doing her assigned job of keeping Chase occupied for the weekend.

"Come on, girl," Taylor laughs, linking arms with me and walking me back up the stairs. "Let's go put on a good show."

Well put. That is precisely what I intend to do.

Chaos does reign. In the afternoon the men begin watching football, and the girls troop into the kitchen to help Mrs. Anderson cook. Christian tags along, insisting that he is really quite useful in the kitchen. But after fifteen minutes of adorable banter with Jen (which I find really quite sickening) he leaves us for the living room.

Amy is also convinced that she's remarkably apt when it comes to cooking. "I wouldn't say myself that I have any talent for it," she says. "I only know that my _friends _tell me all the time how good of a chief I am."

I restrain my gag reflex and settle for exchanging sarcastic glances with Taylor.

Natalie Banks talks for ten minutes straight while we're getting set up. The remarkable thing about Natalie Banks talking is that she manages to talk about absolutely nothing and to repeat that nothing over and over again. Today she keeps saying how nice it was of me and Christian to invite her. I'm beginning to regret that charity.

Eventually, Sophie and Taylor manage to get rid of Natalie, sending her out to watch football with the guys. Despite her insufferable boastfulness, Amy does prove to be useful, as do Jen and Sophie. The three of them, along with Taylor and Mrs. Anderson, seem to have everything under control. Now I can make pancakes, but that's about the extent of my cooking abilities. Still, I want to help. I ask Taylor what I can do.

"Umm," she says, looking around the busy kitchen. She looks back at me and shrugs. "We don't really need you, Becka. Go have fun."

Feeling rather useless and dejected, I wander out to the living room. I hang around the back of the room until Chase notices me. He pats the spot on the couch beside him and says, "Come sit, babe."

Lately Chase has taken to calling me babe. I found it quite humorous, under the circumstances. But just now I find it extremely annoying. As soon as he says that my eyes shoot directly to Christian, but Christian's eyes are plastered on the TV screen. So I make my way lethargically over to Chase. Once I'm sitting down he whispers, referring to my panicked glance toward Christian, "Easy girl." He looks smug. I ignore all this and ask, "Who's wining?"

"Who cares?" Elton answers.

I don't know. Not me.

After staring at the screen for twenty minutes in a desperate attempt to feign interest and to keep myself from staring at Christian instead, I wander back to the kitchen and beg Taylor to give me something to do. She generously allows me to mash the potatoes.

At six o'clock we are all sitting around the Anderson's big table, holding hands and saying grace. Everything is here—the turkey, the stuffing, the cranberry sauce. Everything Thanksgiving is here.

Chase is sitting on my left, and ironically, Elton is on my right. Christian is halfway across the table. With this group, I doubt he's in shouting distance.

I can't help but open my eyes and look around at everyone while we pray. I don't mean to be sacrilegious, but it's nice to see everyone quiet for once. Christian opens his eyes just when I'm looking at him, shakes his head and then winks at me. I close my eyes quickly, very tight, and then open one to peer across the table at him again. He's still watching me. A grin spreads across his and then he gives me a reprimanding look as if to say, "Be a good girl and close your eyes." I find myself smiling, though I'm strangely saddened by this interaction. I close my eyes and don't open them until Mr. Anderson says Amen.

Well. The prayer is finished now. The food is in front of me. Thanksgiving dinner has officially commenced.

Funny thing though:

I don't know what I'm thankful for.


	25. Christian Tells Me Something Funny and I...

**A/N: Howdy folks. Sorry that was kind of a long wait (at least I think it was a long wait (?) I lose my sense of time now and then). And it's also a short-ish chapter here… But a good chapter (hopefully). Hope you all enjoy it. Things will reach a climax in the next chapter (if things go as planned). Brace yourselves for Becka vs. Christian, round 2! Love you guys. Seriously, I do. You're reviews make my day.**

**Chapter 24  
****Christian Tells Me Something Funny and I Almost Tell Him the Truth**

The chaos continues through to Friday, and eventually climaxes that afternoon with the ten of us engaging in an extremely animated game of Cranium. Halfway through the game, I slip out of the room, allegedly for a glass of water. West follows me to the kitchen.

"I have a migraine," I tell him. "Is it okay if I go lay down in your room for a little?"

"Sure," he says.

I wander up to West's room and through myself onto his bed with a groan. I don't have a migraine. But this moment of peace and quiet is worth the lie. I smile happily at West's ceiling, very pleased with my own brilliance. And the door opens.

I quickly roll over to my side, so my back is facing the door, and close my eyes, hoping that whoever just came in will think I'm sleeping and go away. Go away, go away, go away.

"Nice try, but I saw you roll over."

It's Christian.

"Go away," I say, not really meaning it, as I rolled back around to face him. "I have a migraine."

"Liar," Christian says, calling my bluff. He crosses the room and sits down on the bed beside me. "I've seen you with a migraine. This is not you with a migraine. You're much bitchy-er with a migraine."

"Uh!" I say, pretending to be insulted, and slam him with a pillow. He just swings his legs up onto the bed and settles down beside me.

"So this is fun," he says. I can tell from his dripping sarcasm that he's talking about the whole weekend with the motley crew.

"Tell me about it," I sigh, staring up at the ceiling, not so happily this time. We both sit there in the silence, that comfortable kind of silence. I break it first. "Do you remember freshman year?" I ask.

"Mmm," Christian murmurs. His eyes are closed.

"That was our best year, you know?" I continue. "Before…Elton."

"And Amy," Christian adds.

"And Sophie."

"And Jen."

He won't say it. I'll say it then. "And Chase. Especially before Chase," I finish. I watch him closely, trying to gage his reaction. But his eyes are still closed, and he doesn't seem to be reacting at all. Well, it was worth a try. New subject.

"So, uh, what do you think about Chase and Jen?" I ask tentatively. I've been wanting to know what he thinks about the match for a while now. Seems like a good time to ask.

Christian opens his eyes. "Chase and Jen?" He asks incredulously, wrinkling his nose. "You mean, like, together?"

I turn onto my stomach, so that I can get a better view of him while I'm talking. "Well, yeah. I mean, I can see it, and—"

"Are worried about Chase?" he asks curiously

"No, I'm not '_worried' _about Chase, it's just—"

Again he interrupts me. The man won't let me get a word out. "Because I think, Becka, if you want to worry about something—" He stops there like he doesn't know if he should tell me what he's thinking or not.

"Come on Christian, you can't leave me there," I prod.

"Okay, I know. But just—I'm only saying this because I love you and I don't want to see you get screwed over, okay? But Sophie and Chase, Becka. Don't you ever get the feeling that they know each other a little better than they let on?"

Okay Christian, I really don't know where you're going with this one. Although he did say he loved me. Though I'm sure he means in a strictly platonic way. Damn.

I shrug. "Chase knows her enough to hate her."

"No, no," Christian says. "That's not what I mean. I mean, I think they know each other in more of a…. agreeable way," he says carefully.

"You mean like," I begin. I can't believe this. "You mean like you think they're together? Secretly or something?"

"Well. Yeah."

"That's ridiculous!" I scoff. "Really, Christian, it's laughable."

"Wait, no, think about it," he says, leaning forward. "Haven't you ever seen them whispering all conspiratorially together? And, yeah, the way he pretends to hate her so much without really having a reason? Come on, Becka, why would he do that if he wasn't trying to cover up for something?

"Um. Because. He. Hates her," I say deliberately. Christian has quite an imagination on him. Seriously, this is really, really funny.

"Oh, and the way he let you ride with me on the way here? You know, so Sophie would be riding with him?" Christian continues

Okay, now I'm starting to get mad. "I can't believe you, Christian!" I say angrily. "Chase was actually being nice and generous for once is his life and of course you've got to go and say he had ulterior motives. Really, I usually expect _you _to be the bigger person, but I guess in this case I'm wrong."

Christian looks both genuinely hurt and genuinely desperate. "No, Becka. I didn't mean it that way. You know I didn't mean it that way. I just—just be careful okay? That's all I'm saying." He looks pleadingly at me. And of course I cave. I know he didn't mean it that way, and after all it's just impossible to be mad at Christian for more than two seconds.

"Okay, kid. Just steer clear of matchmaking. You really suck at it," I say with a grin, which means we're okay. Christian smiles back at me. And suddenly I want to tell him. I mean, I need to tell him. Maybe not that I'm in love with him, but at least the first part of the story. Jeremy's right. Christian should know that Chase and I are not together, and that we never will be. Christian should know.

I sit up, Indian style, beside him and look at him seriously. "Can I tell you a secret?" I ask.

Christian nods slowly. "Of course," he says. He looks very curious, like he doesn't know what to expect.

"Okay." I take a deep breath. "Well. This is kind of a long story. And it's something I probably should've told you a long time ago, but I didn't. Because it's a secret. And nobody knows it but Jeremy, so you keep you're little mouth shut once I tell you. 'K?"

Christian nods again. I take another deep breath. "Alright. Well, for a while now I haven't been—"

"There you two are!" Taylor interrupts, bursting into the room.

No! Shit! Is that bad timing or what?

"You are both _so _bad," she continues, oblivious to the fact that she just totally interrupted a very important moment. "I can't believe you guys are hiding out in here while the rest of us suffer. Get your lazy butts downstairs."

She saunters out the door, fully expecting us to follow.

"We'd better go," I say sulkily.

"No, wait! That is so not fair," Christian says. "Can't you just tell me quickly?" He really wants to know the secret.

"No, I told you it's a long story." Christian looks pained. "I'll tell you later, I promise," I say.

And I do fully intent to tell him later, as soon as I get the chance. But you know, for me, things never go quite as planned.


	26. Happy Birthday To Me

**A/N: Thank you everyone for your wonderful reviews on the last chapter. They really keep me going. Sorry it took so long, Lilly. It's been nothing but drama, drama, drama for me lately, and with all that going on I didn't really have the energy to write. But now I have risen from the ashes and come up with a new chapter for y'all.Booya.**

**Review!**

**Chapter 25  
Happy Birthday To Me**

You see, the opportunity never arises for me to tell Christian. Because we never get another second alone the rest of the day. And before I know it, it's the next morning.

I stumble up the stairs around eleven. (Back to my usual rising time. We shuffled sleeping assignments a couple nights ago after I pretended I couldn't sleep because the springs in the pull out couch. I'm on the floor now with Jen. Chase and Sophie have the pull out. Christian is probably reading something into that. Ha ha.) I wander into the dining room and grin at our group, mostly already assembled.

"Happy birthday to me!" I announce.

Christian and Taylor aren't here. They're in the kitchen making breakfast (brunch? lunch? what do you call it at this time of day?), I guess. So I sit down by Chase, my partner in crime. As much as he's screwed up my life, I still love the kid to death. We're like kindred spirits—both a little crazy and probably not as good as we should be. But it takes all kinds, you know?

"Hey, there's my girl," Chase says, slinging an arm around me and giving me a side hug. "Happy birthday." I accept the display of affection because Christian isn't here. West, still oblivious to my actual feelings, grins at me. I just laugh to myself. Today everything is alright. Anything goes.

"So what do you want for your birthday Becka?" Chase asks. I'm expected to say something silly or unusual at the very least. I say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"A boyfriend." Christian, specifically.

"Oh yeah?" Chase asks playfully. "Got anyone in mind?"

Yes.

"I don't know," I shrug. "You think John Mayer's available?"

Chase laughs. I'm sure everybody else in the room is enjoying our cheerful banter. Chase continues, "You know, I was thinking." I open my eyes really wide and gasp, like I'm shocked by the idea. Chase shakes his head an continues, "I don't want to pick out my own wife. I'l probably end up with someone I absolutely hated if I tried to pick a girl. I wish somebody just choose a wife for me, you know? Like an arranged marriage."

"Oooh, oooh. I'll pick for you," I grin, raising my hand like and eager school kid.

"Sounds like a plan," Chase laughs. "I'm sure I'd like whoever you picked."

I'm sure he would. I raise my eyebrows at Jen, who just smiles.

"Hey, let's play a game," Chase says. It isn't so much a suggestion as it is a command. We all wait patiently to hear what he's got in mind.

"Okay, here it is," Chase says, with the air of a man who's explaining something very important. "In honor of Becka's birthday, we all have to tell her either one thing that's really funny, two things that are kind of funny, or three things that are really boring. And in return, Becka has to laugh at them all."

Everybody laughs at Chase's crazy idea. I hit him playfully on the side of the head and say, "You're so weird, Chase."

"I'm not weird," Chase objects. "I'm cute. Okay, who's going to start?"

Amy snorts. "Not me. I don't have time to waste coming up with something stupid to amuse _her_." She says 'her' with extreme distain, wrinkling her nose. And with that, Amy flounces out of the room.

"I think I'm going to have to go with Amy on this one," Elton says, following his girlfriend out of the room.

Ouch.

"Well at least I've got nothing to worry about, I mean, as long as I can say three boring things," Natalie Banks gushes.

You know how sometimes when you're pissed off you lash out at the wrong person? Yeah. This is definitely not one of my finest moments.

"Actually I think you might have a problem," I say to Natalie.

"Oh, no, I'm sure everything I say is boring," she giggles.

"That's not what I mean," I interrupt before she can continue. "I mean, you'll be limited as to how many boring things you can say. Only three."

The moment I say that I wish I could take it back. Dead silence in the room. Everybody is looking at me, except for Natalie Banks who looks like she's on the verge of tears. I'm such a bitch. I turn my head to the right, and in one second it all gets worse.

Christian is standing in the doorway. And by the look on his face, I can tell he heard the whole thing.

Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God.

"Hey Natalie," Christian says. "Me and Taylor need some help making food. I hear you're quite the cook."

Natalie looks up at Christian and gratefully gets up to follow him to the kitchen. And, oh God, the look Christian gives as he steps out of the room. My life is over.

o o o o o o o o o o o

We finally get our moment alone, Christian and I, later on that day. Although I can't say I'm looking forward to it anymore. I'm taking a couple of bags of trash out to the end of West's driveway when Christian catches up with me.

"Becka," he hisses. I can't look at him. I just keep walking.

"Okay, we'll do it this way," Christian says, when he realizes I'm not going to turn around. And then he starts, "Becka, how could you be so horrible to Natalie? I seriously never would've imagined you could do that." His voice is low and even

I try to laugh it off. I look back at him and shrug. "Oh, come on Christian. The girl's ridiculous. You know it as well as I do. I doubt she even got it."

"Believe me, she got everything you said. And yeah, Natalie is a little silly sometimes, but we've known her since we were like three years old. And you know the only reason half these people are nice to her is because you and I are. So when you say things like that you're just giving everyone else a reason to be bitchy to her too."

He's so mad he's almost scary. I turn my back to him again and keep walking. I want to burst into tears. I know I was horrible—that's bad enough. But now Christian is going to hate me forever, and that makes things a thousand times more worse.

"Look, Becka," Christian continues, a little softer now. "It's not like I like having to tell you this stuff. But if I'm not going to tell you nobody is, you know? I just know there an awesome person inside of you somewhere and I just—I just hope someday you prove me right instead of always working so hard to prove me wrong."

He leaves.

I stumble down to the end of the driveway and stuff the bags in the trashcan. Then I sit down on the other side of the trashcan, the side facing the road, the side where nobody from the house can see me. And I just bawl. And bawl. And bawl.

Finally the sobs subside into sniffles. I sit there for a while longer and wait for my face to regain it's normal coloration. People are probably already looking for me. I know I have to head back inside soon. Now. I don't really want to. I just want to sit here with the trashcan. Or maybe lie down in the middle of the road and see how long it takes for a car to hit me.

What does it matter? My life is over anyway.


	27. All of Us Having One Good Time

**A/N: Hey guys. Okay, this chapter here is a little more AU than usual. I suddenly had the idea for this chapter and I wrote it, and then I wasn't sure if I was going to keep it or not. But I guess I am. Anyway, I think that Emma might have done something incredible stupid like this after the Box Hill debacle, were she living in modern time and college aged. So here's my chapter. I'm especially interested to here what you guys have to say about this one. Thanks again for all the reviews. Sorry I'm slowing down.**

**WhiteCamellia: 7 more chapters, I think (?) Around 7 more, anyway.**

**NotreDamegirlie: giving up Fanfic for Lent? Sounds rough. Don't think I could do it. I admire your follow through. :o)**

**P.S. Rob Thomas' new song "Lonely No More" is the _best song ever! _Spread the joy!**

**Chapter 26  
All of Us Having One Good Time**

Saturday night is our night on the town. Excuse me if I don't feel much like celebrating. In fact, the whole core group doesn't feel much like celebrating. Taylor and West intuitively sense that something has gone down between Christian and me, and they're taking turns throwing worried glances at me an then him. Christian himself is sullen and definitely not talking to me. Sophie and Natalie are keeping each other company. (Natalie is also avoiding me like the plague.) Elton and Amy are in their own little world.

Chase, on the other hand, is unbearably exuberant. He knows my spirits are low and he's overcompensating in an attempt to lift them. It's not working.

Jen is equally animated, but in her case, I don't think she got any of what happened today. At least, she better not have gotten it. Because if she did, I'd say she's not much of a loyal friend. The girl has latched herself onto Christian's right arm, and she's doing her best to cheer him up. And in Christian's case, I think it is working

Damn. If I have to be miserable, the least Christian could do is be miserable with me.

Okay, that doesn't make sense. I made my bed. I know it.

We're going to a concert of some pseudo-independent band that only Christian and I have heard of and only Christian and I, under normal circumstances, would enjoy. Which means it's very likely that nobody will be enjoying it.

Well, Jen looks like she's up for anything. And Christian is becoming more and more his usual self. That's two.

The concert is at this club called Banana Joe's. Once we get there, I purposely loose Chase in the crowed. I decide instead that this is a good moment to spend some quality time with my ex. He's easy to find. At the bar.

Elton and I work out this cool system where he orders the drinks and I, well, I drink them. It's running pretty smoothly until he has to ruin our flow by asking, "So what is up with you anyway?"

"I'm celebrating," I say, "my birthday."

Elton snorts. "Uh-huh. Right. I'm not buying it. You never drank like this when we were dating. Not even at parties and stuff."

Oh. I haven't even gotten started.

"One of us had to stay sober," I giggle. I'm feeling silly.

After a couple more, silly turns to reckless. This is when I spot Chase across the room. Mmm. He's looking good tonight. I mean, _really _good. What was I thinking anyway, with all of this I'm-in-love-with-Christian crap? Chase is sexy. Chase is my man. Chase is my soul mate. I stumble off my chair and head myself in his direction.

"Hey, where you going?" Elton calls after me.

"To my lover!" I announce. Sweet of him to be worried about me though. Maybe I should have dated Elton after all.

"Oh, this ought to be entertaining," Elton scoffs.

Okay, maybe not. I'm not that drunk.

I make it Chase and slide in front of him, pulling on his sleeve. "Let's get out of here," I slur. "Can you believe this band? They're totally giving me a headache. Gag. Anyway, the concert's almost over."

Chase looks at me funny. "You're kidding me," he says. "You and Superman are the only ones who've even heard of this band."

"Well, Wolverine, I decided I don't like them anymore. The band, I mean. Or good guys either. I'm looking for more of a Batman type," I inform him, slipping an arm around his neck.

"Okay, you're mixing your superhero metaphors now," Chase says as he detangles himself from my arms. "You are sowasted."

"Nu-huh!" I protest, placing my hands on my hips. I'm really not _that _drunk.

"Okay, let's go,' Chase announces authoritatively. He spins me around and pushes me towards to door with his hands on my shoulders. Not that I'm hard to push. I readily give in to the command.

"Hey, good idea (giggle). I wonder where you got it from."

"You're jokes are making less sense than usual," Chase says dully. We're outside now. "Please tell me there's a coffee shop around here somewhere," he says, peering around the street.

"I don't need coffee," I pout, standing beside the building. It's dark out now. And kind of cold. But I shrug off my jacket anyway, revealing my silky pink camisole beneath.

"Yes you do," Chase says, back with the authoritative tone. He steps in front of me and folds his arms across his chest. I think he's trying to look impressive. It's kind of cute. "And put your coat back on. It's freezing out here."

I lean back against the wall. "I'm not cold. Are you cold?" I purr.

"Becka—"

"You could share you jacket with me," I suggest in a low voice, pulling him toward me by the bottom of his coat.

"Stop it Becka," he says, dropping his arms and placing his hands on my shoulders to keep me at arms length.

"Stop what?" I lean forward. His hands slip past my shoulder, to my back.

"Becka," he whispers.

"Mmm," I murmur. "Shut up." He leans in.

And we kiss.

And kiss.

And—

"Oh God!" I break off and turn around, leaning my forehead against the cold concrete wall. I don't need coffee anymore. Suddenly I'm very sober. This isn't right.

"Oh shit," I hear Chase behind me, but it's kind of like he isn't there. This isn't right. This isn't right. This isn't right.

"Becka." Chase tries to touch my shoulder, but I violently shrug him off. "Oh, come on Becka," he says. He sounds a little annoyed. After all, I started it.

I don't come on. I stand there with my head against the wall swallowing really hard. Because if I move or talk or anything I'm going to start crying. I don't want to start crying.

"Look, Becka, I'm sorry." Chase sounds desperate. I don't think he's used to dealing with things like this—breakdowns and stuff. "That was… bad. I know."

Silence.

"Come on. Please—just—say something?" he pleads.

What the hell. I'm already crying anyway. I slowly turn around, using the wall to support myself. Chase jams his hands into his pockets and he taps his foot nervously. He's a good body's-length away from me. He so obviously doesn't know what to do.

"I just. Wanted. It. To work," I gasp out between sobs. Pause to collect myself. Better now. Continue. "I wanted us to work. Because if we did. Maybe that would mean—" I break off. The tears are coming back.

"That you and Christian don't," Chase finishes quietly.

I nod, biting my lip to keep from starting up with the crying again. I slide down onto the pavement. I pull my knees up to my chest. Elbows on my knees. Head in my hands.

"Everything is so messed up," I whisper.

Chase hesitates, then he sits down beside me. He's still keeping a good distance between us. This is why I need Christian—he would know what to do right now. He would sling his arm around my shoulder and pull me into his side. I need Christian. How did I not know this before?

I'm done crying now, so I pull my compact out of my purse and start pulling myself back together. I cried most of my eyeliner off, so more of that. A little cover-up to hide my blotchiness (again from the crying).

When I'm reapplying my lip gloss (this from the kissing), Christian and Jen tumble out of the building, both of them laughing. I look up at them dully as I throw the lip gloss back in my purse. Christian stops laughing and says, "Oh." Jen sticks her head back in the door and shouts, "Hey Taylor! We found them."

Great. They were looking for us.

In a minute the rest of the troop is outside. The concert is apparently over. Chase stands and pulls me up after him, but as we're walking back to the cars I lag behind. It takes me a good three minutes to realize that Sophie Walker is lagging with me.

"So," she says softly. "Which one broke your heart?"

I'm startled into looking at her. I'm really surprised by 1) her directness and 2) her perception. We're obviously talking about Christian and Chase here.

"Does it matter?" I ask bitterly.

Sophie studies me for a moment. The she turns her head forward again and says softly, "I guess not."

A few seconds of silence. But you know, I need to vent and Sophie seems for some reason to think she needs to here about this.

"Okay, Christian," I say. Is it just me or does Sophie look a little relieved by that? It must be just me. Why would she be relieved anyway?

"And do you know what the worst part of it is?" I ask. "Watching Jen hanging all over him all night."

"I know exactly what you mean," Sophie says, and ironic smile curving onto her lips.

"She has no idea," I continue about Jen.

"So you can't blame her, but you really want to anyway," Sophie adds.

Huh. She does know exactly what I'm talking about.

"Anyway," Sophie continues. "I wouldn't worry too much about Christian if I was you. Things will work out. I mean, you and Christian, it's like… destiny."

"Well, I'm sure about destiny," I laugh weakly. "But thanks." Then I sigh and add, "It's going to be one long drive home tomorrow, though."

"I'll let you ride with Chase," Sophie offers.

Wow. I should have been nice to Sophie Walker a long time ago.


	28. Return From Melodrama

**A/N: So all the reviews on 26 inspired me to get this chapter done faster! (Less than a week, baby. See, reviews really do kick me into action…) But let me tell you, this was the hardest one to write yet. For some reason I just got stuck halfway through it. But pop-tarts and _The Moulin Rouge _eventually got me through. I'm glad y'all liked that last chapter. To those of you who liked the Sophie part—Hurray! I've been just itching to write the nice Sophie Walker :o) Expect more of that. And keep reviewing guys. I'm really gonna need some encouragement after the hell I went through writing this one… **

**bow2thehippogriff: **Yeah, I've gotten kind of sidetracked with my other story (I am a certified _Lost _addict these day) But hey, I got this chapter done super fast :o)

**Satan's Advocate: **It's hard, because I want to write Christian jealous. But if I write Christian jealous, that means Becka is noticing he's jealous and then she really has no big reason to flip out (later on) and think that he likes… well, you know (don't want to give it away in case anyone _hasn't _read _Emma_). I just confused myself. Lol. Hope you got what I mean :o)

**Jill: **Sorry, you couldn't hate Chase :o) Mwhahah. I really don't think Frank Churchill's all that bad – just a little self-involved – so I didn't want to make Chase like an evil villain, because I don't think that's true to Emma. Emma is her own worst enemy. Lol. Anyways, I hope to write a nice Chase/Sophie centered chapter soon. Not this one here, but soon.

**donna: **Ah, Jeremy…. love the boy. Here he comes.

**Kate: **Okay, yeah. That chapter was a tad bit overdone. Too melodramatic for me too. Thus I have titled this next one here in your honor:

**Chapter 27**

**Return from Melodrama**

"This is going to be messy."

Sunday morning. I'm standing on West's porch, and me and my suitcase are holding up traffic here. In front of me are two cars, one belonging to Chase and the other to Christian. Beside me is my new-found comrade, Sophie Walker.

"I'll handle this," she says. I watch her gratefully as she hauls her bag and her cousin over to Christian. "Musical cars!" she announces cheerfully to him as she approaches.

Christian's eyes shoot up and lock, for a moment, with mine. But I drop my head sheepishly, and by the time I look back up again he's talking frantically with Sophie. His voice is very low. I can't hear anything he's saying. He looks up at me one more time, then he grabs Sophie and Natalie's bags, walks around, and shoves them in his trunk. And he _slams _that thing shut.

Sophie shrugs and gives me a thumbs-up. I'm guessing that's my go-ahead.

I carry my stuff over to Chase and his trunk. "I've got a headache," I grumble, as I hand him my suitcase.

"I'm sure you do," Chase replies. He doesn't look at all surprised to see me. Sophie must have talked to him to. I love this girl.

I let out a grunt, which is my only reply. Sophie has snuck her way away from Christian and she's sliding up beside me. "That looked pretty dramatic," I say to her, referring to the animated conversation between her and Christian.

She shrugs. "It's okay, I can handle it. It would be more dramatic if _you _were the one riding home with him and besides," she pauses, gesturing to me and Chase. "You two have things to talk about." Is it just me, or is she looking very pointedly at Chase when she says that? It must be just me.

Sophie goes back to Christian, and Chase and I climb into his car.

"So about last ni—" he begins, but he doesn't even get to finish that word.

"Don't even start with me, Chase Everhart," I cut him off. "Because I am so over it. Last night I was disgustingly melodramatic, and I made a no-more-melodrama resolution just this morning. So yeah. Don't be expecting any more scenes like that."

Chase and I don't believe in apologizing.

"Becka," he teases. "Aren't you _always _melodramatic?"

"No, I'm always neurotic," I explain.

"Ah. I take it there's a vast difference."

"Mmm-hmm. Neurotic is cute and endearing. Melodramatic is just unforgivable.

"Uh-huh." Chase sounds skeptical.

I lean back into my seat. "I think we should like Sophie Walker, by the way," I say, turning my head to look at him. "She's a nice girl."

"Yeah. I noticed that. You and Sophie, uh, making friends, I mean." Chase is sounding strangely uncomfortable. Apparently he is not ready to accept Sophie Walker into his good graces. Ah, well, I suppose these things take time.

"Well, you don't have to like her, but I'm going to." I frown out the front window. "What's the hold up, anyway? Let's get this show on the road."

Fifteen minutes later we are finally driving back toward school. Good, good. We can't get back fast enough. I really need to talk to Jeremy.

- - - - - -

"I'm back!" I announce loudly, dropping my things right inside the doorway. No answer.

"Jeremy?" I try again. "I'm back."

"I heard you the first time," my cousin says, ambling out to the living room. "So how was the weekend from hell?"

"Is there any ice cream in this house? I think we're going to need ice cream for this one."

"Oh no," Jeremy groans as I head for the kitchen. "That bad?"

"You have no idea." There's a half-full half-gallon of mint chocolate chip in the freezer. I grab it and two spoons and head back out to the living room. Jeremy is on the couch. I sit down beside him and open the ice cream.

"So…what happened?" Jeremy prods.

I hand him a spoon. "Well. Hmm. I bitched at Natalie Banks, got yelled at by Christian (who is, for the record, not speaking to me), made out with Chase, made _friends _with Sophie Walker. Oh, all that and I am officially in love with my best friend."

Jeremy has frozen, his spoon full of mint chocolate chip in midair. "Oh God, Becka," he sighs. "How did all of that happen in one weekend?"

"Told ya you should've come along. You missed all the excitement."

"So out of curiosity," Jeremy asks, "did the making out with Chase happen before or after you realized you were in love with Christian? I'm guessing you're talking about Christian here when you say you're in love with your best friend. Unless you mean Taylor." He wrinkles his nose.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Christian."

"Okay. Good. So you and Chase—before or after the Christian epiphany?"

"After, actually." Another mouthful of ice cream. I have plans to finish this half-gallon off. "It doesn't really matter, though, seeing as Christian is never going to speak to me again."

Jeremy is looking at me funny. "You're oddly cheerful about this," he says.

"It's a self-preservation thing."

"It's kind of creepy."

"So are you going to give me any priceless words of wisdom, Oh Wise One?" I ask hopefully.

"Well," Jeremy begins and then pauses thoughtfully. "Yeah, I think you're going to need to give me a play-by-play of what exactly went on this weekend first. Because I'm still a little confused here."

"Alright, alright," I relent. This is going to take awhile. We might need more ice cream. When I'm finally finished with the whole long story, Jeremy leans back in his seat. He looks a little dazed.

"Words of wisdom?" I prompt, although things aren't looking too promising from that reaction.

"For once I'm actually speechless," Jeremy says.

"Nu-huh!" I don't believe him. "You're never speechless. Come on, you had plenty to say when I didn't want to hear it."

"Yeah," he shrugs, "and if you'd just listened to me then, none of this probably would've happened."

I glare at Jeremy. "Oh, so what you mean by 'I'm speechless' is you've got nothing to say but 'I told you so.'"

Jeremy grins (evilly, I might add), and scrapes the last spoonful of ice cream out of the container. "Yeah, basically," he says cheerfully.

I glare at him again.

"Alright, alright," he relents, and I know he's ready to give me some of his 'priceless' advice. "Well, first of all, Christian is not going to stop talking to you forever. I mean, you've done worst things than this, yet amazingly the two of you are still friends."

I nod. "Okay. What else?"

"Well," he begins dramatically. Then he pauses before finishing, "Yeah, that's pretty much all I've got right now."

I sigh. Well, that's a start at least.

**Another A/N: My goldfish, John Mayer, died last friday. I won him two years ago at a carvnival. He was a good fish. This chapter is dedicated to him. Rest in peace, John Mayer.**


	29. Three Lunch Periods and Thursday Night

**A/N: I got a little obsessed with downloading American Idol performance songs and playing them extremely loud to annoy my roommate this week. Loads of fun. Try it sometime. Anyways, that's part of why this took me a tad bit longer. The other part is because I've been studying my _brains _out for my accounting final. I'm really about ready to drop the double major and do some serious husband hunting. Who wants to work anyway? But anyways, here it is.**

**bow2thehippogriff** Four or five more chapters after this one.

**NotreDamegirlie** Well, uh, Jeremy sort of was _supposed _to be Mr. Woodhouse. I mean, that's who he was going to be when I started. But then he sort of morphed into my own little character. Oops. grinning sheepishly

**Satan's Advocate** Okay, okay. I tried to do a little bit of a jealous Christian in this chapter here. Jeremy was Mr. Woodhouse (as explained above). I know, I know. I've thought about how this story should probably have parents. But Jane Austen has so many characters already! I have trouble keeping track of all of these characters as it is, without adding anybody extra in. Anyways, yeah. It's not perfect. And I'm not v. good at describing my characters, so there actually might not be a whole lot in here about what they look like… So, uh, picture them how you want to (?) I'll try to go through my old chapters before I post again and see if what I wrote about their physical traits.

**ohshocking** Glad you liked the pointed look. I was particularly fond of that pointed-look part. He he. :o)

**Kate:** Christian and Becka, coming right up.

**BeyondtheSea** Dude, he jumped out of his bowl. That is the second fish I've had jump out of that same bowl (Arg!) I tried to resuscitate him (by putting him back in the water), but alas, it was too late (sigh). Oh, and I love Sophie Walker too :o)

**SmartStuff: **Happy it wasn't as absurd as you thought it would be :o) It's fun to write.

**Jill: **That was officially the longest review I've ever gotten. :o) Lol. It made me v. happy. I actually had 5 carnival goldfish long ago, all named after various singer-songwriters. John Mayer was the only one who survived the night, so I just figured he was gonna live forever… Chase and Sophie are coming up next chapter, I promise. Mwhahaha.

**Chapter 28**

**Three Lunch Periods and Thursday Night**

Monday, 12:18. I get out of the food line with my tray and already I have a dilemma. My people are at one of the center tables. The only empty seat is by Christian. He didn't say a word to me in Ancient Classics, which confirmed my assumption that he wasn't speaking to me.

I spot Chase at the other side of the cafeteria. He's heading towards the gang. But if I hurry, I can probably intercept him. A girl's got to have somebody to eat lunch with.

I feel like a football player, barreling across the cafeteria with my food. But it's worth it in the end, because I make it to Chase in time. "Come on," I say a little more forcefully than I intend to. "This way." I drag him by one arm to an empty table that's a good ways away from Christian.

"What the hell is up with you and Christian anyway?" Chase asks as he sets his tray down and sits. "Or wait, let me guess. One night of crazy sex and these are the repercussions."

"That is so not funny, Chase Everhart," I say tersely, taking the seat beside him.

"I know," Chase groans. "But you're being all depressing again and I'm just trying to counterbalance that."

"Stop trying."

Chase scowls at me.

"Alright, alright," I sigh. It's time I stop taking my aggression out on Chase anyway. After all, for once, he's pretty innocent. "I'm okay. I'm happy."

"Uh-huh," Chase snorts. He doesn't sound so much like he believes me.

Sophie Walker enters the building and I flag her over to our table. "Do you have to do that?" Chase grumbles as she making our way over to us. Why does he always look so panicked when Sophie's around? The hatred must really run deep.

Me, I'm feeling really quite pleased with myself. I've stolen two regulars away from the Christian-table. Take that Christian Lewis. I haven't lost all my friends.

Just the most important one.

I involve myself in conversation with Sophie and then Chase and then I let them involve themselves in conversation with each other. (It's good for them. These two are just going to have to make friends if they're both going to be friends with me.) I can't help but sneak a glance over at Christian now and then. The first time I look he's giving a private and somewhat passionate monologue to West. I can only imagine that Christian is telling West how much he hates me. I could cry.

Becka Hanson does not cry in the cafeteria. I turn my attention back to Chase and Sophie. They're being actually quite civil. I'm so proud. I turn sideways to stretch my legs onto the chair beside me, using Chase as a backrest in the process. I look back at Christian.

He slumped back in his chair and he's staring at me. Or actually, he's staring at Chase. Christian's arms are folded, his eyes are narrowed. You'd think from this moment that it's actually Chase he hates.

But it's not. It's definitely me.

Chase has to leave before Sophie I do. He says bye, stands up, and heads for the exit. As soon as he does, Christian get up from his table across the cafeteria and follows Chase out. It's almost like he's been waiting for Chase to leave.

Strange.

- - - - - - - - -

Tuesday, 12:32. This is ridiculous. You know what? I'm just going to sit where I damn well please. Even if Christian and I aren't going to be friends anymore, we're going to learn have to be civil in a group. I march over to the regular table and defiantly sit down next to West, across from Christian.

Christian looks up at me, and the whole table is suddenly very quiet. He smiles weakly. "Hey Becka," he exhales. These are the first two words I've gotten from him since Saturday afternoon, and I'm so happy about them I'm tempted to launch myself across the table and into his arms. But after another three minutes it becomes pretty apparent that these are the only two words I'm going to get from him. He's busy talking with Jen, on his left. West is talking to Elton, who's sitting on his other side. I'm not talking to anybody. It's very awkward and depressing.

So when Chase walks in I get his attention and motion for him to come sit beside me. Chase looks quickly at Christian and shakes his head no. He looks a little bug-eyed. I scowl and gesture again to the seat beside me. Chase reluctantly shuffles over and sits down. He's looking a little meek.

"What is wrong with you?" I ask.

Chase shrugs and begins eating his mashed potatoes. I sit there and stare at him for a while. I've got a question I need answered. I lean in and ask quietly, so the rest of the table can't hear, "Did Christian talk to you yesterday?"

"Briefly," Chase says, obviously hoping that this curt answer will put an end to my investigation. Of course it won't.

"Oh my God. What did he says!" I whisper hurriedly.

"Look, can we not talk about this right now?" Chase scowls, glancing meaningfully at Christian. What Chase really means is "can we not talk about this ever." But he does have a point about Christian. Right now, the boy is trying to pretend he's not paying attention to us, but I can tell he's trying to listen in on our conversation.

"Fine," I relent. "But you are so not off the hook."

Chase grunts. Taylor joins the table, sitting down beside Christian, across from Chase. "Well this is nice," she says brightly as she slides into her seat. "Glad to see we can all sit at the same table again. Does this mean you two made up?" She motions to me and Christian.

Thank you, Taylor, for officially making this the most awkward moment of my life. Christian and I look at each other uncomfortably. Somebody has to answer that question. "Not exactly," I finally mumble, looking down at my food.

We all chew quietly. Then Taylor says, "Okay," like she's just trying to fill the silence and picks up conversation with Christian. Chase reaches behind my neck and massages it comfortingly. I rally my spirits and begin a lively round of verbal jousting with him. West kicks me under the table. Huh?

Elton leaves, and Taylor swings around the table to sit by her beloved. Christian tries talking to Jen a little more, but then he's back to scowling again. Chase and I are getting louder and more animated. The louder we get, the deeper Christian scowls, the harder West kicks me under the table. I don't know what's up with West and the kicking. Come to think of it, I don't really know what's up with Christian and scowling either. But it's all very horrible. Eventually Christian just stands up and leaves.

- - - - - - - - - -

Wednesday, 12:05. After yesterday, there is no way I'm going to try to sit at Christian's table. In fact, I don't really want to sit with any of them. And do you know who's sitting by himself today? That's right. Luke Emerson. The lab partner.

"Can I sit here?" I ask, setting my tray down at the spot across from him. He looks up and nods nervously. I sit down. Luke doesn't know what to say to me, but fortunately for both of us, I'm an excellent conversationalist.

"So. Chemistry final in a week and a half. I am so going to fail. It's cumulative isn't it?"

Luke nods again and says, "Yeah. And it's like 500 questions."

"It's like Dr. Pyke wants us all to fail," I groan.

"He does," Luke says with mock solemnity. He's gaining confidence. Maybe the nervous thing is just his initial persona. I kind of like this guy after all. I like him a lot better than Elton, anyway. I should have let Jen date him. Bad Becka.

"Hey, you know what? You're smart. How about we study together?" Okay, I now I sound like I'm trying to use the poor fellow, but that's not really how it is. Like I said, I think I like this Luke guy, and I'm seriously considering adopting him into the group. After all, I could use a new project to keep my mind off of Christian.

"You study with Christian Lewis." Luke sound a bit suspicious of that using thing.

"Not anymore," I say bitterly. "In fact, these days I don't even talk to Christian." Luke has his eyebrows raised. I'm definitely going to capitalize on his curiosity here. After all, I love nothing more than venting.

"Hey, want to hear a long story?" I ask hopefully.

"How long?"

"Long, but interesting. How about I tell you the story and then you can tell me how you think it's going to end." Luke is a little hesitant to commit himself to my long story, but I he doesn't really have a say in the matter. I quickly launch into The Story of Christian and Becka Abridged.

I'm getting pretty animated in my story telling (Luke is laughing at me) when Christian and Jen walk into the cafeteria together. I'm kind of pissed at Jen. I mean, here I am dying of unrequited love and she's all budying around with the object of my affection. They stop and talk to each other, looking at Luke and I. I think they're trying to decide whether or not to come over here. I'll make this easy for them.

"I've got to go," I tell Luke, "but don't think you're off the hook. We'll finish this story in Chemistry."

"I'll be holding my breath," Luke deadpans.

"So how about studying?" I try my luck again. "I'll bake you cookies." There's nothing like a bribe.

"Sounds like a plan," Luke says.

Seriously, I love this guy.

- - - - - - - - -

Thursday, 6:42.

"Jeremy!" I moan, as I trudge into the house. "I'm going to die! If I have to go one more day with him not frickin' speaking—"

"Becka," Jeremy cuts me off hurriedly.

I turn around. Beside him on the couch is Christian. He smiles and lifts his hand in a little wave.

"Oh," I say. I'm rendered speechless.

"That's my cue," Jeremy says cheerfully, and he leaves the room.

Christian sits and I stand and we just look at each other. I hug my stomach nervously and try to think of a way to begin. Christian starts, "So…"

And then everything comes out at once. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I gush, rushing over to the couch and sitting down sideways beside him. "I know I'm horrible person. But you have to be my friend again because it's just crap when you aren't. Please? I know—"

"Woa, down girl," Christian breaks in, chuckling a little. "I'll always be your friend."

I sink back into my chair, suddenly feeling a whole lot lighter. "But you didn't talk to me all week. I thought…" I trail off

"I know," Christian says. "But it didn't… really have anything to with that Natalie thing. I mean, it did, but in a roundabout—" Christian breaks off and shakes his head. Then he tries again. "I just…needed a little away time."

I nod like I understand, although really I don't. But it doesn't matter. As long as Christian doesn't hate me. As long as we're friends again.

"Anyway, I've got to go," Christian says, standing up abruptly.

"It's Thursday night. Where do you have to go?"

"I'm going home for the weekend actually. Leaving," he pauses to look at his watch. "Well, I should have left a while ago. I was just waiting around because I knew if I didn't come make up with you before I left you'd have killed yourself by the time that I got back." Christian was smirking.

"Hey, don't flatter yourself, buddy. I can get along just fine without you, you know," I said playfully.

"Uh-huh," Christian rolled his eyes. "I got that feeling from that 'Oh-Jeremy-I'm-going-to-die-if-Christian-doesn't-talk-to-me' speech you made when you were walking in the door."

"Did I say that? I don't remember saying that."

"Right," Christian laughs. "Well, I've really got to go." He pulls me up and into a hug. "I'll see you Monday, okay babe?" he says into my hair.

"Okay," I smile. Christian hasn't called me babe for a long time. Not since Chase adopted the nickname. Christian releases me and he leaves.

"Okay Jeremy, you can come out. I know you're eavesdropping just around the corner," I say once Christian is gone.

My cousin wanders on in from right around the corner, just as I predicted. "Well that was nice," he says nonchalantly. "The great divide has been bridged once again."

"Har, har, har." I pause and stare at the wall. Then I ask curiously, "How long was he here waiting for me?"

"Like an hour and a half. That's devotion for you."

I smile slowly spreads across my face. "Yeah," I agree. "It kind of is."

Everything is going to be alright.


	30. Several Surprises

**A/N: I know, I know, that took _forever_. A million apologies. Fortunately I had to stay home today and clean the house in a last ditch effort to convince my parent that I really do deserve to go to Philly tomorrow with some v. specific and important friends… So I decided I'd finish this chapter in between the kitchen and the bathrooms. Gaaah, I really want to go to Philly…**

**Review, make me feel better. This was a hard chapter. **

**I'd do more reviewer responding, but I really need to get back to scrubbing. So just a few quickies:**

**ohshocking: **as a really random thing, I think your penname is cool.

**Jill: **this chapter is officially for you. Sophie and Chase, here they come… imagining dramatic Western showdown music playing in the backround

**Chapter 29  
Several Surprises**

Taylor calls my cell just as I'm walking out of Creative Writing, and she's sounding anxious. "Where are you?" she asks.

"Just getting out of class."

"Good. You'd better come over to West's."

"Why?" I ask, becoming both curious and worried. "What's wrong? You sound all nervous and panicked and weird and stuff."

"Just come," Taylor says, and that's the end of that conversation. I get over there as quickly as I can.

"So what the deal?" I ask, as I march through West's door. No reason to knock here, especially when these two have called me over here so specifically. The whole way here I've been trying to think of what could possibly be going on. Worst case scenario, they've got me here to tell me Christian is gay. That would seriously suck. For me, I mean. There are probably some very lucky men in the world who would benefit from it.

"Sit down," West says, which is how people always start when they've got really bad news. Oh God. I follow his command and plop down on the chair across from him and Taylor.

"So, uh," West continues. West doesn't stutter like this much, which is also a bad sign. After an awkward pause he says, "So Chase's aunt died."

That's it? I mean, that's sad, but I was expecting something a little closer to home. I probably didn't need to sit down for that one. "What, the inheritance aunt?" I ask.

Taylor nods.

"So I guess that means Chase has got his money."

West nods. These two sure are looking solemn.

"And I guess that means he can marry whoever he wants," I say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood here a little.

West and Taylor exchange a look and then they both focus back on me. "Yeah," West begins carefully. "Well, the thing is… he's already kind of decided who he's going to marry."

Oh my God.

What!

Well I hope Chase Everhart hasn't rented his tux yet because he's going to be taking that thing back. I sure don't remember saying yes.

West is still talking. "He's been secretly engaged. For a long time. To…" He pauses and bites his lip and then he drops the bomb. "Sophie Walker."

I just stare at him for a bit while that sinks in. Oh Lord. Chase and Sophie. Chase and Sophie. Christian saw it. I didn't believe him. But it's true. Chase and Sophie.

Bastard! He _kissed _me!

And then I'm barreling out the door.

"Wait! Becka, where are you going!" West is running after me.

"Oh you know where I'm going. Me and Everhart need to have a little conversation," slipping into Christian's habit of referring to Chase by his last name.

"Everhart and _I_," West corrects tiredly. "Don't do anything stupid, Becka."

What? Stupid? _Me_?

Never.

I don't knock on Chase's door either. Bastards are not entitled to privacy. Oh, and look who's inside sucking his lips off. You guessed it. Sophie Walker.

"Well aren't you two quite the team," I growl, slamming the door behind me. I have to say myself, it's quite an entrance. Chase and Sophie jump away from each other, looking a tad bit startled.

"Becka," Chase says warily.

"Oh don't bother, Chase," I cut in. "I already know. You're engaged, you bastard." I look around for something to throw at him, but there isn't anything nearby, so I have to make do with glaring.

Sophie is also glaring. But surprisingly, not at me. She's been staring at Chase ever since I came in with that quite-the-team line, and by this point she's obviously pretty angry.

"Becka, look, can we talk about this later?" Chase is panicking. Sophie face is hardening into a demon-scowl. And then she explodes.

"You didn't _tell_ her?" she screams at Chase.

And that quickly I find my issues taking a backseat to a much bigger problem. Thus I am referred to throughout the remainder of this conversation as 'her.'

The answer to 'you didn't tell her' is so obviously no, that Chase doesn't even try to talk his way out of that one. Sophie uses this opportunity of rare silence from Chase to attack again.

"You said you told her," she hisses.

"Woa, wait," Chase comes back on the defensive, almost pleading. "I never said I _told _her. I said I was going to tell her. And I was going to tell. But there never was a right time, and—"

"Never a right time!" I interrupt. Sorry, I know this isn't about me anymore (well it is, but indirectly). But a girl has to have her say now and then. "How about when you had your tongue down my throat, that might have been a good time. Or when—"

"_YOU KISSED HER!_" Sophie again, louder and angrier. I realize this a good time for me to shut up. In fact, this is probably a good time for me to leave. But for some reason, my legs aren't working. So I'm stuck here, rooted in Chase's doorway, watching the beginnings of World War III.

Chase's face has drained of all color. Obviously he can't just deny the accusation. Not when I, the only witness to his crime, am here.

"Sophie," he rasps. "She was drunk and—"

"You weren't?" Sophie snaps. The mighty Miss Walker is a force to be reckoned with. She's not cutting our boy Chase any slack.

"It was just once," Chase tries.

For the record, it was twice. And the first time both parties were completely sober. But I'm not about to divulge this information, not with the look Chase just shot me.

"I don't care if it was just once," Sophie says. She pauses to look at me and continues. "I don't even believe that it _was _just once. Look, I'm out." She stands angrily, grabs her purse, and stomps to the door. She opens it, and pauses before slamming it shut to look back at us and offer this parting shot:

"You two deserve each other."

Slam.

Now Chase has the opportunity to direct all of his pent-up anger at me. "Well thank you for that, Becka," he begins, in true bastard form.

"Don't even try to pin this one on me, Everhart," I retort. And I'm out too.

Slam.

I can see why Christian's always referred to the guy as Everhart. He doesn't deserve any first-name-basis relationships.

- - - - - - - -

Several hours later the righteous anger is staring to wear off and the reality of this all is sinking in.

Oh God. What have I done? I think I just broke up an engagement.

Speed dial number 2.

"Hello?"

"Jeremy," I gasp. "You will never believe what I just did."

He sighs through his cell phone. "Actually, by this point, I'll believe anything."

- - - - - - - - -

10:00 that night, I've managed to seize one of the big fluffy chairs at Barns & Noble, where I'm diligently prepping myself for my study session with Luke Emerson tomorrow. Of course this moment of study solitude would not be complete without an interruption from the gruesome twosome. Chase and Sophie, looking nervous, walk over to my fluffy chair section. This is either one very huge coincidence, or they are stalking me.

"Can we, uh, sit here?" Chase asks.

Now this is something. Their relationship is apparently more resilient than I thought. Maybe I should have mentioned the sober kiss. After look at them blankly for several painfully-awkward-for-them moments, I say, "If you're going to keep it quiet," and return to my chem book.

Sophie is whispering something about how she'll be right back to Chase, and leaves him alone with me. I look back up to watch her retreat and then observe, "So I guess you worked things out."

Chase sits down in the seat beside me. "Yes, _work _is definitely the right word. Thanks for that, Becka."

"You didn't deserve it to be easy," I shrug. Excuse me if I'm fresh out of sympathy. "You're just lucky I wasn't in love with you, you know. You're benefiting from a very fortunate coincidence."

"Oh please. I knew you weren't in love with me," Chase counters, rolling his eyes.

"I was in the beginning."

He shrugs. I have him there.

"You may have very well destroyed my relationship with Christian. I have every right to hate you forever," I continue matter-of-factly.

"But you don't," Chase points out, rather annoyingly.

I narrow my eyes. Then I sigh and give in. No I don't. "Okay, but speaking of Christian, I think I've earned the right to know what he said to you the other day."

"What, by attempting to sabotage my engagement?"

"No, by serving as your decoy for the past three months."

Again, I have him. But Chase looks very loath to tell me about this conversation.

"Why won't you tell me?" I ask, all the more curious.

"Look, let's just say he's going to kill me when he gets back. Unless you do a very good job of convincing him before hand that you're not at all broken hearted or even severely damaged." Chase looks at me hopefully.

Hmmm. Interesting.

"How many favors do I have to do you?" I say, laughing a little.

"I swear," Chase says earnestly, "this is the last one."

Somehow I highly doubt that.


	31. Several Surprises Continued

**A/N: Hey, what up with all the Chase hate, guys? He's not so bad! Perhaps a little self-absorbed and immature, but I'm sure he'll improve with age.**

**Chase: For the record, if they hate me it's your fault.**

**Me: Whatever, sugarplum. On with the reader responses.**

**ohshocking: **Even more amazing is that my readers have managed to keep me writing this for over 30 chapters. Lol.

**Huntress of the stars**Your wish is my command. :o)

**WhiteCamelia: **Next chapter, baby. Next chapter. It's all gonna happen.

**BeyondtheSea: **It was such a good line, I had to use it.

**Jill: **Glad you liked your chapter. Although I have to say that review was just as good as the rest of them. Seriously, sometimes I think I write this story just to get to read your reviews :o)

**schiziodmastermind: **It feels… hmm. I dunno. I might be kinda sad when it's done, actually. I'll have to find something else to do with myself. :o)

**And thank you, of course, to the rest of you: NotreDamegirlie, nebulia, justcallmebubba, annie, Linnath, Lilly, chexbb, Radiant, and anti-botox.**

**For the record, the next chapter is the chapter we have all (with various degrees of patience) been waiting for. I say this in the hopes of coaxing some pretty urgent review out of you guys. :o) Love ya'll. Sorry it's a little short. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 30  
Several Surprises Continued**

I am officially resigning from my position as campus matchmaker.

Seriously. I'm obviously crap at it, and this whole Chase-Sophie business is the last straw. Let's pause a moment to review my brief and illustrious career.

Matchmaking blunder #1: _I talk Jen into liking Elton. _Plan backfires. Elton turns out not only to be a complete prick, but also after me instead of Jen. The venture climaxes with Elton trying to stick his tongue down my throat and me leaving hand indentations on his face. I am still trying to block these memories. Gag.

Matchmaking blunder #2: _I talk Jen out of liking Luke Emerson. _Plan backfires. Luke turns out to be the coolest guy on campus, excepting Christian (off course) and possibly West (despite the fact that he probably still has not realized I am in love with Christian and not Chase). Also, if I had let Jen date Luke Emerson, blunders #1 and 4 would have never happened.

Matchmaking blunder #3: _I talk self into liking Chase Everhart. _Plan backfires. I royally screw up my perfect relationship with perfect-man-for-me Christian. I end up not really like Chase anyway. Chase ends up being secretly engage all along, which is seriously annoying and humiliating. And also very typical.

Matchmaking blunder #4: _I talk Jen into liking Chase Everhart. _Plan backfires. For obvious reasons.

As Christian and Jeremy would (and will, when the opportunity arises) tell me: if I had listened to them, either one, none of this would have happened.

In other words, I told you so.

Oh God. I'm never going to be able to be in the same room with both of them again.

More over, I really need to stop thinking about Christian.

I suppose it is my duty as best friend and person who got her started on this Chase track in the first place to go and try to break the news gently to Jen. I'm a little scared, remembering how badly she reacted when the whole Elton thing was going down. Hopefully she's matured since then. I mean, she's been hanging out with Christian lately. He's very mature. Maybe he rubbed off on her.

Then of course, I've been hanging out with Christian all my life, and look at me.

And there I am on the Christian track again. This is getting bad.

I don't have to find Jen. She finds me. She comes over to my house early the next morning (Saturday morning, mind you. My sacred sleeping time) and flounces into my room. Yes, flounces. This girl is way too hyper for 10 a.m. I'm really sorry that I'm going to have to put a damper on all this exuberance.

"Ohmygosh, did you _hear _about Chase and Sophie?" Jen says, flopping down on my bed, on top of my feet.

"Mrphm," I grunt, confused in my early-morning mental lethargy and not sure that I'd heard her correctly. Did she just say—wait, does Jen _already know _about Chase and Sophie? Why is she so… happy?

"Isn't it, like, the weirdest thing ever?" Jen is continuing cheerfully. I pull myself into a sitting position and eye her warily. This is way beyond what a little quality time with Christian can do.

"What?" Jen asks, really looking at me for I think the first time since she came in the room. I can imagine what my face looks like, so terrified I am by this uber-happy Jen when her boy world is once again crashing down. Jen tries to figure out what the hell is wrong with me for a minute. Then she shrieks, "OHMYGODYOUSTILLLIKEHIM!"

All one word, just like that.

"What! No I DON'T!" I shriek back.

"Oh, I didn't think you did," Jen says, instantly returning to her usual voice level. "Well then what is wrong with you?"

I'm perplexed. At this point, I should be consoling Jen, shouldn't I? Is there an important piece of the puzzle I'm missing here? I'm so mystified, I'm reduced to stilted sentences.

"_I _don't like him. But I thought—I mean—well—_you_ did."

Jen stares at me blankly for a full three minutes, while I fidget uncomfortably with my comforter. Then she starts laughing. Guffawing. Crying she's laughing so hard.

I have to say, I don't get it.

"You thought. I liked. Chase," she manages to gasp between spiels of giggles.

"Well… yeah?" Is that so stupid? We basically spelled it out. We did everything but say his name.

Shit. We did everything but say his name. What did we say?

Jen has calmed down now. She says, "Seriously though, Becka, how could you think I liked him? Even you with your whole Chase-obsessed past have to agree he doesn't exactly live up to the competition."

The competition? Oh God. Oh shit, shit, shit, shit.

She's talking about Christian.

Jen likes Christian.

GAAAAAAAAAAH!

What did I say to her!

"But I remember. When we talked about it. We were saying how he was all heroic for you. You know, with the shoe-pirating incident," I say desperately. Oh please, please, please don't let it be true.

"No. I mean, if we talked about heroism I was definitely referring to the party. You know, when Christian came and danced with me after Amy threw her drink on me."

Christian. She said it. I can't deny it anymore. The horror I feel at the moment is clearly mirrored on my face. Jen says, "What's wrong Becka? You aren't mad are you? You said you weren't mad. You said you thought it was great and—"

"I WAS TALKING ABOUT CHASE!" I shout.

Jen has suddenly gone all weepy. "Oh my God. You don't think I'm good enough for him? You think I'm just this dumb girl who's no way good enough for your precious Christian."

"No, no, that's not what I think," I say, trying to comfort Jen although I think I might start crying myself. "It's just… I just…" I pause and swallow hard. "Do you think he, you know, likes you back?" I can hardly choke out those last couple words. But I need to know. I really need to know.

"I think. Yeah. Maybe," Jen says quietly.

"Well." Another hard swallow. "Unlike Elton and Chase and apparently every guy I'm ever going to be romantically involved with," (cough, sputter, swallow) "Christian doesn't lead girls on."

"Thank you," Jen says.

Oh. She does not know how much she should be thanking me right now.

Somehow I manage to keep up the I'm-okay façade until Jen leaves. At which point I am actually too shocked to cry about this like I should. Fortunately, there is ice cream in the freezer.

Shortly, Jeremy makes his appearance on the scene. "Ice cream for breakfast," he yawns. "Good choice. Out of curiosity, what was all the screaming going on in your room about?"

I stare at him expressionlessly.

"This is bad, isn't it?" Jeremy sighs.

"Christian and Jen," I say, "What do you think?"

Jeremy is momentarily taken aback. Then he ponders. Then he says, "Wow. I would've never seen that one coming in a million years. But I just, I don't know. I mean, they're both irreproachably nice."

My face falls, along with my heart.

"Hey, don't give up yet, kiddo," Jeremy says, sitting down beside me and taking a spoonful of my ice cream. "You can't know anything for sure until Christian comes back."

He's right of course. Christian is due back late tomorrow night. I probably won't see him till Monday night. It is going to be a very long three days. Until then, there's no use obsessing over it.

I spend the rest of Saturday _not _thinking about Christian.

For instance, I don't think about while I'm driving, listening to the mix CD we made when we graduated high school.

And I don't think about him while I'm studying chemistry with Luke, who's has to ask me the same question five times in a row, at which point he gives up and asks me what the latest Christian update is.

I don't think about him while I'm watching _The Princess Bride_, which I'm definitely just watching to pass the time, and not because it's "our" movie.

And most of all, I definitely don't think about him before I fall asleep, when I'm praying that God will please, please make him love me.

I do dream about him. But you can't control your subconscious.


	32. How It Goes With Christian

**Chapter 32**

**How It Goes With Christian**

Sunday, 10:27 AM.

Two days, sixteen hours, twenty three minutes, and thirteen seconds. That's how long it's been.

Since what?

I think you can guess.

Christian is due back late tonight, but I probably won't see him until Ancient Classics tomorrow. I still have a lot of time to fill. So far, I've spent most of it worrying, especially with this terrible new Jen news. The only _good_ news I can think of is that I might finally have the chance to be the bigger person here: if Christian is in love with Jen I am going to let him tell me.

And that will be my one great sacrifice. After that I will cease to associate with either of them, as it will be just too painful. A girl can only do so much.

Right now I am sitting on the park bench outside of the English building at school. I came over to the library today, figuring I should try to get some studying in. That way when Christian gets back and confirms the likely fact that he's in love with Jen I won't have to feel guilty about spending the rest of my week moping, because I will have accomplished something before hand.

Thinking ahead, baby.

However when I opened my text books to study, I found that my mental distraction had been such during Ancient Classics on Friday that I could not remember a word Dr. McClarty said. Thus, I headed across campus to the English building, as Dr. McClarty is a workaholic and is always here no matter the day or time, to find out what actually did go on in class.

But I didn't make it inside. I got waylaid at the park bench in front of the building. It's been raining nonstop since five o'clock last night, and the duck pond is starting to flood. So I'm sitting here with my back to the path, watching that happen. I don't have an umbrella. I'm getting soaked. But it's somehow calming.

"What are you doing?"

To my credit, I do not jump visibly at the sound of Christian's voice. Although my heart does tumble to somewhere below my stomach. What is he doing here?

"The duck pond is flooding," I say, not moving at all and definitely not looking at him. Right now I'm looking rather like shredded wheat after it's been in a bowl of milk too long. This is a problem. Of course Christian has seen me in worse conditions than this—like once him and West and Taylor dragged me camping. But I was hoping that upon our reunion I would look at the very least presentable.

"Uh-huh," Christian says skeptically. He sits down on the bench beside me. The rain is slowing to a drizzle. I can't look at Christian's face right now, but I sneak a glance at his arm. He's wearing the backpacking jacket.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, finally bringing my eyes to his face.

"I just got back. I stopped by your house but you weren't there so I came over to see what I missed in Ancient Classics. But seeing as I found you first, you can fill me in, huh?"

My answer is a shrug. What I actually meant by that question was what is he doing back early. I'm wondering whether to rephrase and try again when Christian asks, "Are you okay, Becka?" He sounds generally concerned that I might not be. I don't know why he would have any reason to think I'm not okay. But then, I am staring at a slowly-flooding duck pond.

"No," I say jokingly, keeping my tone light and playful. "I'm too hungry to be okay. Let's go eat something."

Ice cream. The solution to all of my problems.

After a bit of dialogue we decide to take my car, which is parked by the library on the other side of campus. We fall into step with each other and also into silence. I'm inwardly panicking. Christian breaks the quiet first.

"Becka," he says, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

Okay, I know I said that I would let him tell me, but now that we're a sentence away from Jen I just can't do it. I'm sorry, I can't.

"Oh, oh, me first," I rush in, again with the plastic cheerfulness. "I have the weirdest news."

Christian studies me sideways while I keep my eyes plastered on the ground in front of me. "Good weird or bad weird?" he asks.

"I dunno," I shrug, looking back up at him. "Weird weird. Good weird I guess. I think I get to be a bridesmaid."

"If you mean Chase and Sophie, I already know," Christian breaks in quietly.

What? How does he know? My surprise is obviously apparent on my face, because Christian hurries to explain.

"West called me last night."

Dammit, West, for stealing my thunder on that one. That was my best stalling maneuver and now it's been trumped. I say, "I bet you weren't surprised." There's a slight edge to my voice. Okay, so I'm still a little bitter. Just that I didn't figure it out.

Christian shrugs, looking almost embarrassed. "Not really," he admits sheepishly. I think he feels bad for me. My suspicions are confirmed as he slings his arm around my shoulder in sort of a side-hug (Gaah! Physical contact!) and says, "You're going to be alright, Becka Hanson."

I stop in my tracks. Christian walks a few steps and turns around to look at me when he realizes I am no longer moving.

"I am alright," I say, very seriously. It's time to set the record straight.

Christian looks at me like he's trying to figure out just what I'm saying here. He opens his mouth to say something then closes it and continues studying me. "How alright?" he finally asks.

"Wanna hear a secret?" I ask, remembering how I almost told him the day after Thanksgiving. "I haven't actually liked Chase in a wanting-to-date-him sort of way for a long time. And I also knew he wasn't going date me, even though he pretended like he was considering it. So yeah. I'm very okay. A little pissed off and humiliated maybe, but not broken-hearted or anything."

Christian stares at me dumfounded. Then one of those little light bulbs appears above his head as he also remembers our after-Thanksgiving conversation. "You were going to tell me," he says dumbly.

I nod, now feeling a little sheepish myself. "But I probably should have told you a lot sooner."

His eyebrows go up. "How long have you not liked him?"

I think about it and answer, "Since he went to New Hampshire."

"Wow. Okay," Christian stammers, falling onto the half wall we've been standing beside. I'm getting a really weird reaction from him here, and it's starting to worry me.

"Christian?" I ask unsurely, sitting down beside him.

"Yeah. I'm just… refiguring everything," he says.

And what is that supposed to mean? I let him refigure while I sit beside him trying to figure things out myself. Finally Christian begins again with, "Chase is a jackass."

I have to chuckle at that, glad for a little comic relief in this emotionally intense conversation. "All that refiguring and that's what you came up with? I mean, we already knew that."

Christian blows past that comment and continues along his original train of thought. "He got exactly what he wanted at no expense to himself but with a lot of expense to everyone else." He pauses. Then he shrugs and adds, while staring at his hands, "But he did get what he wanted."

"You sound a little jealous there," I tease.

"I am a little jealous," Christian says seriously, looking straight at me again.

Shit. Now I've unintentionally brought us back around to Jen. Oh crap. I can't come up with any more good stalling mechanisms. I must brace myself for the horror about to come. I find I can't look at Christian anymore. I stare at me feet.

"You won't ask me why I'm jealous." I can feel him still looking at me.

Damn right I won't ask him. I find that I am just not cut out to be the bigger person. I don't want to hear that he's in love with Jen.

Seeing that I have no intention of responding to that, Christian says quietly, "Smart girl." I think that's the end of it there, and I'm just about to let out a good sigh of relief when he starts up again.

"But I think I'm going to have to tell you anyway. Even though the minute I do I'll probably wish I hadn't but—"

"Then don't say it!" I break in. The words come out a little more passionately then I expected them too. "Don't say anything if we're both going to wish you hadn't."

Christian blinks. He blinks again. Then he stutters, "Right. Yes. Thank you." Then he stands up and starts walking again, but in the other direction. Back towards the English building where his car is parked.

Oh God. That was not good.

I know I have to go after him. I know I have to let him tell me about Jen. Just give me second to muster my strength.

Alright. I'm going now.

"Christian!" I huff as I jog after me. He turns around, his hands in his pockets, and watches me approach. He looks so glum right now it kind of makes me want to cry.

"I'm sorry," I say, slowing to a walk as I've pretty much caught up now. "Sorry, that was rude. You're my best friend, and whatever you want to say to me I'll listen to. As a friend."

He laughs a little ironically. "As a friend, Becka," he sighs, shaking his head and smiling sadly.

Oh God. Things are a lot worse than I thought.

"You have to be my friend, Christian," I begin, starting to panic. "I know I do stupid things, but trust me I'm a lot stupider when you aren't around and—"

"That's not what I mean, Becka," Christian interrupts.

"Then what did you mean?" I moan.

I can tell by his look Christian isn't sure whether to be frustrated or amused by my denseness. He runs his fingers through his hair and then begins on a new track to try to explain things to me. "Why do you think I never liked Everhart?" he asks.

Really don't know where you're going with this one, love.

"Because he's immature and self-absorbed?" I guess.

"Well yeah. I mean, but no."

Ah, very articulate.

"I mean like before he even got here I didn't like him. Why do you think that was?"

I really always wondered that myself. It was rather un-Christian-like. Since I obviously don't have an answer for that, Christian proceeds to tell me exactly why he never liked Chase.

"It's because I always knew he was supposed to be with you."

Holy shit. Is Christian saying what I think he's saying? I keep my mouth shut in fear saying something stupid and ruining this. Christian continues.

"You think we can just be friends like this forever. And don't get me wrong, it's not that it's not great or anything and if that's it for us then I'll take what I can get. But I just can't stop hoping that we can be more than that. More than friends."

He stops talking and looks at me earnestly, waiting for some kind of responds. I'm kind of in a state of shock here. Happy shock, though. Very happy shock.

"Becka, please says something," Christian begs.

Honestly, I really can't say anything. Trust me, I try. I'm too surprised. And happy. Ecstatic. All other words meaning the same thing.

Christian loves _me_.

The poor boy still thinks I don't reciprocate. "You're repulsed, aren't you?" he says miserably.

Still can't say anything. But I do what I can. I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. Full on the mouth. It takes him a second to respond, but trust me, he does. Mmm, yes. He responds.

When we break off he shakes his head, laughing. And he says, "I'm going to take that as a no."

- - - - - - - - -

Christian and I are on the couch watching television, I'm all wrapped up in his arms, when Jeremy gets home. He stares at us for a second. Then he says dully, "I should probably be surprised but somehow I'm not."

I think that's how we're all feeling right now.

**A/N: Wow. After thirty one chapter of romantic uncertainty Christian and Becka are FINALLY together, and I'm expecting some pretty excited reviews. Anyone who's been holding out on me, this is your chance. Review now!**

**There will be one more chapter, just so y'all know. Just to finish things off nicely.**

**Donna: **Sorry, sorry, sorry. I really didn't mean for it to take that long, but the summer mental lethargy has set in and I'm doing everything slower these days.

**Radiant: **Huh. I didn't even know that was in The Emperor's New Groove. I haven't seen that movie for like five years. But maybe that line was somewhere in the back of my subconscious when I was writing. Gaah! Now I've plagiarized! Oh well. It was unintentional. Fortunately, you don't have to like this chapter against your will, because there was definitely _plenty _of Christian in there.

**Huntress of the Stars: **I'm really not creative enough to keep it going. Thirty two chapters was a long way for me. Seriously, usually I don't finish things.

**schokolade: **Yay! Thank you. Glad you like it. It's been fun.

**Sage32: **Oh, you rock. I'm a real music person (it's like my biggest thing other than writing) so I like to randomly interject band/artist names into my stories when at all possible. Lol. I love it when ppl like my same music. Hurray!

**justcallmebubba: **Yay, he's back!

**bow2thehippogriff: **One more chapter. Kind of sad… sniff.

**Jill: **Time for my awards ceremony. Best reviews ever is going to have to go to you, hands down.

**And to the rest of you: Rosa Cotton, Satan's Advocate, trixareforkids, annie, ohshocking, BeyondtheSea, WhiteCamellia, CharlyB, and fell4adeadguy: much love and much thanks.**

**Since I'm not going to get many more chance to say this, I just want to let you guys know how much I appreciate your reviews. Ever last on of 'em. They really make my day. Seriously, you guys are the best. I'm glad everyone's enjoyed this story so much. It's been fun.**


	33. The Blessed Event

**Chapter 32  
****The Blessed Event**

_**Six Months Later**_

_beep…beep…beep…beep_

I bury my head in my pillow and groan. It is way too early on a Sunday morning for that alarm clock to be ringing.

"Are you going to turn that off?" comes a hazy voice from beside of me. I mumble something unintelligible and an arm reaches over me and hits the snooze button.

"Don't make me get up," I moan, turning to Christian and burying my face in his chest this time.

"Don't get up," Christian mumbles.

"I _have _to get up." I roll onto my back and attempt to wake myself up a little. "Ugg. You kept me up too late last night," I say, glaring at Christian. Which is really pointless because his eyes are closed so he can't actually see the glare.

But he opens his eyes, smiling mischievously at the accusation. "I kept _you_ up too late, Becka Hanson? Quite the other way around, I think."

"Either way, it's going to take some serious caffeine to get me through this day." I'm holding my eyelids open with my fingers now. It's not really helping.

Christian pulls me back towards him and says gruffly, "I say we just skip." Then he rolls on top of me and starts kissing me. Mmm. Hmm. Maybe that's a good idea he has there.

Or maybe not. I break off and scold him, "Stop seducing me. We can't skip Chase and Sophie's wedding."

"Why not?" he asks, kissing my neck now. It's very hard to concentrate when he's doing that.

"Because, for one thing, I'm in it."

Christian sighs like he really expected I'd say okay let's skip, and rolls on his back beside me again. "Who's idea was that?"

I pretend to ponder that for a second. "Mine, actually, I think."

"That was a bad idea."

"Yes well," I turn to face him, "I think we've established that Chase in general wasn't one of my brightest ideas. But you were a pretty good one."

"I _was_ a pretty good one," Christian agrees, leaning in to kiss me again.

"Stop it. I have to get up."

"Nobody's stopping you," Christian grins.

Well…

Who's going to care if I'm a little bit late?

- - - - - -

"I still don't see why you're marrying him."

After he makes that comment, several throw pillows and a couple other odd objects are hurled at Christian from various positions across the room. Many of which miss their target and hit me instead. Some how we have all ended up hanging out upstairs in Sophie's so-called dressing room pre-wedding. And when I say all, I mean all: me, Christian, Jen, Luke Emerson (I'll explain that one later), and Taylor. Natalie Banks, maid of honor, has mysteriously disappeared. I think she's still a little afraid of me. West, best man, is with Chase.

"What is wrong with you people!" Christian asks, peeling Taylor's jacket off of his face and whipping it back at her.

"Watch it, Christian Lewis, that's my fiancé you're talking about," Sophie answers good-naturedly.

"Yeah," I add, taking her side. "And you know, Chase is a lot like me. Like if I were a guy, I'd probably, like, _be _Chase." To me, that sounded very profound. But I appear to be the only one of us who holds this opinion.

"Oh, please don't say that, Becka," Sophie groans. "That's like saying I'm marrying the male-you. Which, no offense or anything, is kind of disgusting when you think about it."

"I know," Christian says seriously. "I mean, marrying the female her would be bad enough."

"Uh!" I say, sounding a lot more insulted than I am. Because I'm not insulted. At all. "Well now that I know where this relationship is heading, or not heading for that matter…" I trail off, scooting away from Christian on the chair. "Hey Jen, I just broke up with Christian. You interested?"

Jen is doing one of those entertainment crosswords in a magazine she found laying around. She looks up at me smirking a little and says, "Not anymore." Only she and I and maybe Luke Emerson get the joke.

Things were easier with Jen than they should have been. To my credit, as soon as the post-Christian ecstasy had worn off a little (I mean, it still hasn't _completely _worn off), I immediately began to worry about breaking the news to Jen. I mean seriously, this was the second time in a row the guy she was interested in wound up interested in me. And this time I was interested back and I was dating him. I knew enough to know that a thing like me and Christian wasn't going to stay on the down low for long, so I knew I had to tell her. Soon.

But Jen found me first. Thursday morning she was in my room at another ungodly hour with some news of her own.

"I have something to tell you and you're not going to like it," she warned. I was going to say about the same to her, but she didn't give me the chance. "I'm dating Luke Emerson," she blurted.

"Thank God," I said.

Jen looked a bit miffed.

"I'm dating Christian," I said.

Jen continued to look a bit miffed. Then she started laughing hysterically. Then I started laughing hysterically. Then Jeremy came in a threatened to send us both to an insane asylum. And that's pretty much how it went down.

As Jen returns to her crossword, I continue with the joke. "So now that I'm not dating Christian anymore, I think I need a new boyfriend. Any suggestions anyone?"

"I hear Elton's available," Taylor says dryly.

Yes. Much to our shock and dismay, Elton and Amy did not stand the test of time. I speak satirically, of course.

Jen makes a sort of snorting noise that I think can safely be interpreted as sarcasm. I pretend to be seriously thinking about this Elton option. "I dunno. Elton was a good kisser," I shrug.

"I think I'm insulted by the implications of that statement," Christian complains.

At this point, West ambles on into our hang out room, making the group truly complete. With the exception, of course, of Chase Everhart.

"I see you've abandoned your poor cousin," I observe.

West shrugs and plops down next to his girlfriend. It actually surprises me sometimes that West and Taylor aren't getting married yet. But with them it's more like, they'll get around to it when they get around to it. No urgency there.

"That's mean," I scold. West shrugs again, and I just roll my eyes.

West learned shortly after he assured me that Christian was way over caring about me dating Chase that things were exactly the opposite. Apparently Christian spent the three days he wasn't talking to me (after the Natalie Banks post-Thanksgiving catastrophe) talking to West about how desperately love sick and without hope he was. We all laugh about this now, although Christian assures me it was not very funny at the time.

Here's another thing we laugh about now, which Chase assures me was not very funny at the time. After a lot of cajoling and begging (on my part) and a lot of evasive answers and looking adorably embarrassed (on Christian's part), I was finally able to pull out of him some of that mystery conversation he had with Chase during the three days of silence. As far as I can gather, it went something like this.

Christian: Hey, so we need to talk. Or actually, I need to talk.

Chase: _cowers against the cafeteria wall_

Christian: Listen, obviously I'm fighting a losing battle here. So whatever. You win. I'm done.

Chase: _still cowering_

Christian: But I just hope for your sake you aren't the kind of jackass I think you. Because if you hurt her editor's note: me. If Chase hurts me I swear to God, you're going to wish you hadn't.

Chase: _again, still cowering_

Christian: And yes, that was a threat.

Awww.

Okay, so a little on the violent side there, Christian.

But still. Awww.

Right now, nobody seems very inclined to go and make sure that our man Chase is doing alright. Empathy for that boy really runs deep in this crowd. No, seriously, we all do love him down somewhere deep. Sophie loves him anyway. Christian might not love him quite yet, but I think he's growing into it.

"Fine, then _I _will go chill with Chase. Make sure he doesn't run out before the wedding starts and all that jazz," I say, taking a martyr-ish tone of voice. I rise to make my grand exit, but Christian catches my arm before I go and pulls me into an uncharacteristically intense public display of affection.

"Marking your territory," West observes, once it's all said and done.

Christian shrugs. "Something like that," he grins.

I continue on my pathway to the door. "Be good," Sophie instructs. Chase and me, it's sort of like a whole big joke now.

"I'm always good," I say innocently. Everybody has something sarcastic to say about that.

- - - - - -

To his credit, Chase does not appear to be nervous at all. A little bored maybe. A little lonely. But not nervous.

"Came to keep you company," I say brightly as I make my way into the room.

"Nice dress," Chase replies. He's making fun of me, of course. I do not look good in yellow.

"You're fiancé picked it," I shoot back.

"Fiancé," Chase repeats thoughtfully. "You know, just between us, sometimes I'm surprised she's still actually marrying me. You know, after," he makes a grand sweeping gesture with his hands, "_everything._"

"Christian was actually just saying the same thing," I offer, and Chase gives me look. Yeah. It's going to take some time, I suppose, for Chase and Christian to rise above their issues.

"You're just lucky Sophie's so generous," I say. Not in a mean way though. I just say it because it's true, and we both know it.

"Yeah, and you're lucky Christian is so generous," Chase replies, which is also true.

I laugh. "I guess we're both just lucky then."

True.

- - - - - - - -

The wedding goes off without a hitch, which, if you ask me, is kind of boring. The photo session afterwards is an hour of excruciating pain.

"My face hurts from smiling too much," I inform Christian, walking up to him when we're finally through with the pictures. I opted not to zoom over the reception with the rest of the bridal party, as I found I had a better ride option. I massage my cheeks with the palms of my hands.

"That's very attractive," Christian says, smiling a sort of amused half-smiling.

"Hey," I pout. "You'd think after six months you'd have learned by now that as my boyfriend, you are only allowed to say nice things to me."

"That was nice," Christian says innocently. "It was a compliment."

I just laugh and roll my eyes, and Christian tucks me under his arm and walks me out of the church.

"Six months, huh?" he exhales, once outside. It's kind of a rhetorical question, so I don't say anything, although I do wonder where he's going with this. There's a park bench outside of the church, and Christian motions for us to sit down. We do. I'm suddenly a little nervous.

After a moment of gathering his courage or something like that, Christian says, "So I've been thinking about our relationship lately. A lot. And—"

"Oh my God. You're breaking up with me," I break in. At Sophie and Chase's _wedding_. How insensitive can you—

Christian interrupts my train of thought. "What! God, no. Becka. Why on earth would I be doing that?"

"I have no idea," I admit. "But when you preface a conversation with 'I've been thinking about our relationship' what am I supposed to think?"

Christian just shakes his head, apparently baffled by my logic.

"What were you going to say then?" I ask suspiciously.

"Well I was going to ask you to marry me," Christian grumbles. "But you kind of ruined the moment."

"What!" That comes out a little more emphatically then I intended it to, kind of like a shriek. "Oh my God, yes, yes. I mean, you're still asking, right?"

Christian breaks into a smile again. He pulls me over to him and kisses the top of my head. "With an answer like that, I'd say so."

"Mmm. Good." I lean into him, suddenly so happy that I almost can't stand it. We need to get a move on it, or else I'll be making a late entrance into the reception. But we don't need to go _just _yet.

"I love you," Christian says into my hair.

"You'd better," I say, smiling to myself and thinking about that thing I said a long time ago, about me having my own Mr. Knightly, and how maybe that isn't such a bad thing after all.

No. On the contrary, it's very, very good.

**A/N: This was basically me tying up all my loose ends, but I hope you guys enjoyed anyway. You all deserved one more chapter :o)**

**So I was thinking maybe I should do another one of these modernized-Jane-Austen deals now that this one's done. Sense & Sensibility? Mansfield Park? Maybe Pride & Prejudice cuz it's fun although there are like 2 gazillion versions of that on here already. Or maybe I should just quit while I'm ahead… I dunno. What do y'all think? **

**Oh, and one last HUGE thanks to all of my awesome, wonderful, and all other words meaning the same thing, reviewers. You guys rock. Trust me, there wouldn't be a story without you. Hugs and kisses all around.**

**(And review one more time)**


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